Pale Amber
by Clocks Ticking
Summary: ON HIATUS.Himura Kenji, feeling the wanderer within him stir, leaves home in favor of a life of excitement in Kyoto. But around every corner is a secret and a threat, and the sisters he chances upon, Chizuru and Mana, are no exception.
1. Desires and Restrictions

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin.**

A.N.: I know that I should be working on my other stuff, but... I couldn't help it! This storyline has been kicking around in my head for a really long time. ; It's not even my storyline - Watsuki-san is responsible for Kenji's character, his future rivalry with Myogin Shinya, and so on. Any characters not mentioned in the manga belong to me.

Kenshin's speech varies a lot in fanfiction, but to keep the story simple, I'll just be using the basic "I". I'll also be using basic honorifics, but that will probably be it.

xXx

Ever since Kenji had been born, Kenshin had caught himself studying his son. At first, he had merely shrugged it off, telling himself that it was perfectly natural for parents to watch their children... wasn't it? He couldn't tell; Kenji was his and Kaoru's first child. The former rurouni was not quite desperate enough to question experienced parents on the matter, but he was nonetheless somewhat worried. After the studying of his son had lengthened, he had become more worried, confused to a point where he then turned to Kaoru. His beloved wife had merely smiled upon his embarrassed confession and told him that it was nothing. Kenshin was both relieved and miserable to hear this. The patterns in which he watched his son merely repeated themselves, further worrying him.

Kenji had been very ordinary during his childhood. Upon first seeing the newborn baby cradled in Kaoru's arms, and upon meeting her blissful smile with wide eyes, Kenshin knew that he did not have to worry about his son's affections towards him. With Kaoru, he had been slightly insecure around her until they had officially "courted"... Kenshin had always worried about her feelings toward him. He had wanted nothing more than to be able to give her love, but at the same time, he had been worried that love was not something she would accept. But with Kenji, it was very different. Kenshin could be a father to his son, whether the boy in question liked it or not. The former rurouni felt that it was the least he could do for Kenji, and, feeling in dept or not, his fatherly love gave him all the more reason to care for him.

Kenshin had watched his son grow up blissfully unaware of the dangers of life, sheltered by the walls of the Kamiya Dojo. Kenshin felt that he would do anything to support these walls, despite the fact that he knew his son would soon need to be aware of the dangers outside. Nonetheless, it was only until his son began showing strange habits had the studying began to get serious. There was one clear time that he had realized it; Kenji had been at the tender age of six, and Kaoru had been trying her hand at cooking again. Kenshin mentally thanked himself for overseeing any cooking Kaoru did in the past; his wife had become quite good, if he were allowed to brag. His opinion on her cooking did nothing to affect the opinion of Yahiko, who still insisted that it was revolting. No matter how many nasty comments the young man gave, it did not prevent him from coming to dinner nearly every day.

_"Kenshin?"_

_"Yes, Kaoru?" he asked blissfully, smiling up at his wife. Kaoru's expression was not the usual cheer that she exhibited, but it was nothing horrible that he could detect in her face; rather, she looked annoyed. _

_"You didn't see anyone come in the kitchen while I was out, did you?" Kenshin shook his head, and Kaoru's brow furrowed. _

_"Why?" he asked, suddenly alert. "Did someone steal something?" Kaoru nodded, but her expression was not yet serious enough to raise any certain alarm. _

_"I was making rice..." she muttered. "It's gone now..." Her expression lit up suddenly, and she glared at him. "You didn't eat it, did you?" Kenshin, realizing the danger that was his wife's temper, shook his head quickly. Kaoru's bottum lip jutted out in an immature pout, and Kenshin felt a grin tugging at his own lips. He stood and gripped her hand in his own. _

_"Should we go get something in town?" he asked. "We'll bring Kenji, of course." Kaoru's eyes were filled with thought; obviously, she was going over the possible expenses. Ever since Kenji had been born, they had been just a little more watchful of their money. Realizing this, Kenshin's smile grew as he tugged her along somewhat playfully. "It'll be my treat."_

_Kaoru finally gave in, smiling, and let go of Kenshin's hand in order to reach the gate. "Can you get Kenji?" In response to her question, Kenshin nodded; both of them knew that their son was beginning to develope the habit of climing onto the roof, and that habit usually ended in Kenji's fear of climbing down. Kenshin had prided himself in rescuing his son on more than one occasion. Promising to be quick, he first scanned the dojo roof; finding that his son was not there, he headed into the house, calling out his name. It was when he reached his own room that he heard frantic shuffling. Confused and yet alert, the man opened the door and peeked in to see Kenji sitting pleasantly on his folded futon. _

_"We're going out to eat, Kenji," Kenshin said cheerfully as he scooped up his son, preparing to bear the pain of having his hair pulled. Kenji put up no fight, oddly enough, and allowed himself to be carried from the room. Ever since he had learned to walk, Kenji had been defensive about being carried; his sudden passiveness on the matter was surprising. It was when Kenshin saw a few grains of rice stuck to the young boy's face that his eyes widened, and he quickly glanced back into his room. A tatami mat in the corner had been adjusted slightly... Kenji._

_'He stole the rice...?' Kenshin half-mused, half-worried. No doubt about it, his son had somehow managed to sneak into the kitchen without his knowledge and had stolen their lunch. A part of him was worried about the rice being found in his room - another part was worried about his son having the stomach of Yahiko or Sano. The rice had been enough for the three of them. _

_"I suppose we'll have to keep this our little secret," he murmured, sighing. Kenji was silent, his eyes burrowing into the floor. _

_It was nothing to worry about. _

_After all, it was just a boy-thing... right?_

After that incident, Kenshin had made sure to inforce some rules with his son, particularly about eating habits and how stealing was a terrible thing. Kenji had shrugged it off at the time, seeming passive about the theft but irritated with being scolded, and had ceased stealing _all_ the food. There had been a few days after that that Kenshin had found a bit of his own serving missing, only to realize that Kenji's own portion was about twice its normal size. It was not his son's supposed gluttony that worried him - if Kaoru had a say in anything, Kenji would be thoroughly trained in the Kamiya Kasshin Ryu, and that would serve as excersize - but he was more worried about the fact that his son had stolen at all. Once again, Kenshin told himself that such a thing was common for young children, but his own reassurances did nothing to sooth his worries.

Only a little after Kenji had reached the half-point from six to seven, Kenshin had realized changes within Kaoru's life music - her chi, to be more precise. Having noticed the same thing during the beginning months of her pregnancy with Kenji, he had taken her straight to the doctor, despite her insistance that she had no symptoms of late. The couple had been happily rewarded with an affirmative on Kenshin's theory. When told the joyous news of Kaoru's pregnancy, everybody was happy for them; everybody, save for Kenji. Instead of showing direct dislike to this news, the boy seemed passive... no, confused. During the early months of his mother's pregnancy, Kenji had fired hundreds of questions at both of his parents, a great majority of them being uncomfortable ones. Kenshin, having thought himself finally competant when it came to parenting, had found himself shell-shocked when Kenji demanded the orgins of babies.

Kenshin had become wary of Kaoru's pregnancy very early on; it was only a little while after that that she started showing symptoms. There was many a time when Kenji rushed to his mother in an attempt to comfort her during a stomach-ache, and the child was never hesitant when it came to rushing off to the market in order to fill Kaoru's desires for foods she normally found bizzare. With both Kenshin and Kenji waiting on her, Kaoru complained that she was not an invalid many times; however, with a partial thanks to their help, the pregnancy was a very nice one. It was when Kaoru's belly had obviously grown that Kenji watched his mother with rapt interest. After his mother first told him that there was in fact a life inside of her, he almost demanded to be able to hear her stomach daily. Kenshin actually felt irritated once in a while; wasn't it _his _wife? Petty jealousies aside, he felt as he had when Kaoru was pregnant with Kenji: stark-raving happy, but never really showing it. After Kaoru gave birth to the babies - babies as in plural, being that they were twins - Kenji was a little jealous at first. He soon grew out of the jealousy and became a very protective brother to his little sister and brother, Ai and Shinta.

When he had reached nine years old, Kenji had questioned Kenshin about his own experience with a sword; Kenshin, surprised by how his son had come to any conclusion at all, had questioned him on his means of gathering information. A somewhat indignant Kenji had answered that he was not stupid, and that it did not take a genius to figure out where all his scars and callouses came from. Kenshin sighed; his old matches with Yahiko, in front of Kenji, had been hazardous enough. He had hoped that Kenji would forget these spars, but when his son offered this as further proof, Kenshin had known he had not been secretive enough. He then berated himself for his stupidity - how did he plan on keeping this all from his son? The police nagged him enough about helping out, despite the fact that Kenshin was being extra-careful when it came to using a sword. In the end, Kenji had managed to worm some Hiten Mitsurugi secrets out of his father; Kenshin forced himself to think that it would do no harm. After all, his son would need to see and practice the ability multiple times to actually perform it... right?

Wrong.

It had been only a day after that when Ikedo Hiro - a famed bully at Kenji's school - had been found out on the road near his house, thoroughly beaten and unconcsious. Upon hearing about the incident, Kenshin had been worried. After all, what self-respecting man would beat up a child? Kenshin resolved himself to watch after Kenji after that, and, much to his horror, he found something he would have rather missed.

He had been watching Kaoru as she slept - it was a habit of his that he could never really destroy - when he had risen from their futon and dressed for the day. Much to his surprise, he found Kenji in the dojo, swinging a bokken with surprising capability. Kenji, upon hearing his father enter the room, turned and grinned proudly. Kenshin felt pride swell in his chest; it was until Kenji declared that no more bullies would be telling him what to do that he stopped, stunned. After seeing his father's reaction to his words, Kenji had passively confessed to have beaten up Hiro. Kenshin's shock at having his son commit such an act was rivalled by the shock that arose when he realized that Kenji didn't _care_. On the contrary, he seemed proud. Kenji had only greatened the shock when he announced that he had beaten Hiro with the techniques he had learned from his father.

He had beaten up another child, _and_ he had used Hiten Mitsurugi to do it. All Kenshin had done in the matter had been to talk through the attack, the Ryu Tsui Sen; the rest, Kenji had done without a problem.

After that, Kaoru had noticed Kenji's potential with a sword, and she had started teaching him the techniques of the Kamiya Kasshin Ryu. At first, Kenshin had been proud - if there was any way to solve a violent problem _while_ holding a sword, it was with that style. Kenji, much to his surprise, had flown through Kaoru's lessons without a look back. Kaoru herself was immensely pleased, but every once in a while during a lesson, Kenshin caught a worried look in her blue eyes. They had spoken about his amazing abilities, once or twice; Kaoru had confessed to being worried about Kenji and his future. Kenshin confessed to the same worries. It was somewhat of a relief, having Kaoru share his nerves...

_"If he keeps this up," _she had told him, biting her lip, "_he will master the Kamiya Kasshin style by the time he's ten."_

Kenji met the quota with ease. After completing the style, the young boy, like an artist, turned to the finer details in his practice. It was not common for Kenshin to find his son in the dojo early in the morning, far earlier than the time he himself awakened. Sometimes, Kenji would be performing the most ordinary of strokes, while during other times, he would be perfecting the Hadome or the Hawatari. As Kenshin watched his son mature through the Kamiya Kasshin style, he felt both pride and foreboding. He seemed to be watching a younger version of himself practice in the dojo hall - a place where he would have preferred his tutoring to be during his own youth - and he feared that Kenji would later turn his attentions to his father's skills. Kenshin would never teach Kenji; he would never teach anyone. But even the thought of his son's pained look from rejection, a look that he had no doubt inherited from his mother, drove him into a state of guilt.

After Kenji had completed his own training, Kaoru had eagerly taken in other students, using her willingness for Kenji to help in classes to hide her growing fear of his genius. Kenji, having always been loyal to his loving mother, agreed without hesitation. Kenshin had always liked watching Kaoru teach children in the dojo, but now he watched for two reasons: one, to keep up his habit of watching her, and two, to ensure that Kenji would not cause trouble. Kenshin hated himself for mistrusting his own son at all, but the thought of another Ikedo Hiro incident drove him to remain viligant over the cessions. It was only when Yahiko's own son, a six-year-old boy by the name of Shinya, entered the class that Kenji began to show signs of irritation. Shinya, with Yahiko's samurai blood running through his veins and pure determination driving him, surpassed a great deal of the students in the class. Kenshin mentally praised Yahiko for whatever teaching he gave the boy beforehand and watched, amused, as Shinya's reputation in the dojo grew. It was soon proclaimed by the class that aside from Master Kamiya and Assistant Master Myogin, Kenji and Shinya were most definitly at the top.

Shinya's fame did nothing to improve Kenji's temper towards him. Being that the boy was four years younger than him and gaining strength rapidly, a few students predicted that Shinya would be stronger than Kenji by the time he was ten. Kenshin felt a twinge of annoyance whenever this was stated - it was a defensive irritation over the fact that his son had already mastered the style, whereas Shinya was just beginning - but Kenji's temper flared. The two had sparred once, due to a student vote; Kenji had sprung foreward once the battle had started, revealing amazing speed for a boy at his age. Kaoru and Kenshin had been the only ones not to have been surprised; they had both seen and expected his speed to have grown to this rate. Shinya had shown surprising strength for a child his age, but Kenji had far more experience. It was not long before Kaoru was dragging her son from Shinya's slightly battered form, scolding him for being a little too rough. Kenji, loyal to his mother as always, instantly apologized. Kenshin knew that behind the apologies, however, lied a proud child that had just proved his worth.

Some types of worth were best left unused. Kenshin, of all people, knew that very well. Kenji, however, was quite proud of himself. He did not hesitate in going to his father for more information on swordfighting, and when rejected, he merely persisted in attempting to gather the knowledge. Kenshin found himself glad that he was unable to pratice Hiten Mitsurugi; that way, Kenji would have a difficult time picking up on it. His childhood incident with Hiro had proven that Kenji could mimic moves by simply hearing about them - he had done this multiple times with the Kamiya Kasshin, also - this fact among many worried Kenshin. Much to his chagrin, Kenshin found himself worrying that Kenji would attempt to teach Shinta and Ai how to fight; whereas another parent would have found this heart-warming, Kenshin found it worrysome. Having his children learning the Kamiya style, if only to defend themselves, was fine with Kenshin. Any thoughts of them learning Hiten Mitsurugi, however, made him worry. What move had Kenji used on Hiro, anyway? ...How many did he know _altogether?_ The continuous worries left a horrid feeling in Kenshin's gut.

As Kenji aged and became a teenager, he retained a few of his childish behaviours, but many were discarded and others took their place. He became more quiet, more withdrawn; it was almost frightening to look at him in the morning, Kenshin found. Kenji had inherited his hair (although it was a different shade - brown) and frame, giving him a striking resemblance to the Battousai of long ago. Every morning, when checking in on his children (a habit he had developed to match the watching of Kaoru), Kenshin would feel his breath catch upon seeing Kenji; he seemed to be looking in a mirror, minus the scar on his cheek. Kenshin had kept his hair short for some time now, but Kenji had grown his and tied it up in a high ponytail, further adding to the "hitokiri" effect. Another irony about Kenji was his liking of the color blue; he wore a blue gi and grey hakama every morning. Had he the golden eyes - which Kenshin had failed to see so far - he would have truly been the "Battousai incarnate". The only thing that was different between the two was his eyes; Kaoru's eyes. Whenever Kenshin found himself growing uncomfortable in his son's presence, he merely needed to glance at Kenji's questioning blue orbs, and he felt a calm overcome him.

Kenji had remained loyal to his mother; Kaoru had always been somewhat of a doting idol to him. To Kenshin, he retained the passiveness he had developed earlier, which was a great improvment, considering that he had used to enjoy pulling his father's hair to a cruel extent. But it was many a time that Kenshin found Kenji watching him, probably searching for a Hiten move or two. Kenshin needed to fight back the urge to smile ruefully; he would be unable to demonstrate these moves, whether he liked it or not. Towards Shinya, Kenji attempted to retain a cool attitude, but he oftentimes lost it when provoked. He had inherited Kaoru's temper, that was easy enough to see; as had Shinya inherited Yahiko's. The two had argued more than once on the matter of talent, although it was quite obvious to Kenshin that Kenji was the stronger of the two. It did not matter; Shinya merely needed to poke fun at Kenji for his "rival" to lose his cool. As did many things with his children, namely Kenji, these actions both worried and endeared Kenshin. Watching Shinya and Kenji argue was almost like seeing Kaoru and Yahiko fight, but at the same time, Kenshin continued to worry about his son's anger going too far.

Kenshin was jolted from his thoughts as a small hand gripped his sleeve and tugged lightly, conveying in actions what it would rather not in words. Kenshin recognized the gesture immediately and smiled towards his daughter, Ai. His eleven-year-old daughter stared dolefully in return. Ai disliked talking - she was often confused between which manner of speech to adapt, her father's oros or her mother's brash attitude - and her usual attitude manifested as that of a very sweet, quiet, and (if Kenshin were allowed to brag) adorable child. Ai had long, black hair that had belonged to her mother. Her eyes seemed a mixture of the two; they had appeared at first to be Kenshin's violet orbs, but after time had passed, the violet had darkened to a deeper shade of plum.

"What is it, Ai?" he asked quietly, shifting from his position on the futon. When he and Kaoru had been married and without children, he had almost loathed to leave the futon in the morning; it had taken both his and Kaoru's berating to get up and start making breakfast. Now that he had other people to look after - other people for whom his fatherly adoration rivalled his love for Kaoru - he found that it was not such a horrible thing. Ai said nothing, as usual, but her eyes took on a somewhat sorrowful depth and her father instantly understood. He gently pulled his arms from around Kaoru's sleeping form and removed his covers, replacing them and giving his wife a small smile before turning and attending to his daughter. He quietly slid open the door and allowed his daughter out with a somewhat comical bow, then followed her. The two of them sat on the porch for a moment, silent, as the rain that had been falling all night hit the ground only a few feet away with a multitude of splashes.

"What was it about?" he finally began. "Your nightmare." Ai's silence was shattered as she hugged her knees to her chest and allowed a few sobs to escape her lips. Kenshin, realizing instantly that the nightmare had been far worse than the normal ones she experienced, shifted closer to his daughter and embraced her securely. As he usually did when around his daughter, Kenshin marvelled on how petite she was - Shinta seemed that way as well. Despite the fact that neither twin longed to disclose this information, he knew that they had been bullied at school about their size. Kenshin, despite his usually calm attitude, had felt an urge to show those children a thing or two; instead, Kenji had, and he had done so wrathfully. It was all the more worrying.

"It was scary, Daddy," Ai murmured sadly. "I was up in the morning again... you and Mommy were gone... Shinta-nii and Kenji-nii were here, but they didn't listen... Kenji-nii... his _eyes..._" For a moment, Kenshin's own eyes widened as he absorbed his daughter's words. Although she did not say any more about her nightmare, he knew that it had frightened her; Kaoru had often hid her own worries about it, but Kenshin had eventually persuaded her to tell him about it. His wife had finally expressed a fear of being alone; of living her life without another human beside her. After he had gone over the fear himself, and after he had realized that it had been he who had both saved Kaoru from it and given it back to her upon leaving for Kyoto, he had finally found himself worthy enough to say he understood it. Now that he saw his daughter experiencing the same fear, Kenshin felt his gut twist slightly.

Reassuring Kaoru had always felt so terribly right; Kenshin had always managed to find a way to tease her underneath his words, a tease which Kaoru returned with her own. Over the years, he had found that reassuring his children was both the same and slightly different. With no sign of a chuckle in his voice, partially because the man was almost as worried as his daughter, Kenshin released the young girl from his fatherly embrace.

"We won't be going anywhere, Ai," he promised seriously. Ai nodded, slightly reassured by her father's promise. The young girl then yawned and Kenshin smiled, helping his daughter up and walking her to the room she shared with Shinta. Ai smiled at her father before she closed the door - it was a smile that nearly matched Kaoru's, radiant with beauty, but it was a smile often unused. Kenshin waited for a moment, and upon feeling his daughter's ki tone down to that of a sleeping person, returned to his room. Upon entering the room he shared with Kaoru, Kenshin found his wife curled slightly; even when she was asleep, Kaoru unconsciously knew that Kenshin had left. Loathed to deny the both of them the comfort of eachother's presence, he slipped back into the futon. Kenshin could not deny himself the sigh of contentment that escaped his lips upon falling back into slumber with his arms around his wife.

xXx

The first thing he was aware of was the sound of rain hitting the ground. Kenji moaned slightly; he had always exhibited a dark temper towards the littlest things. Running a hand through the red hair that he had inherited from his father, the seventeen year old Himura pushed the covers of the futon from his form, sitting up and throwing a glare towards the sliding door for good measure. Upon hearing Shinta's laughter in the yard, Kenji slid the door open slightly, loathed to let himself get wet. In sharp contrast to himself, Shinta loved the rain; this adoration was shown as the eleven-year-old boy splashed about in puddles. Ai, who had been sitting on the porch in front of Kenji's door, turned and glanced at her older brother.

"Good morning, Kenji-nii," she murmured, to which the corners of Kenji's mouth tilted upwards in a smile. The siblings were distracted from any greetings when Kaoru shrieked. Kenji winced, laughing somewhat nervously, but Ai merely turned her head back to Shinta and watched as Kaoru ran through the pouring rain.

"Shinta Himura!" she scolded. Kenji marveled on how loud his mother could be, even with the certain weather conditions. Kaoru grabbed Shinta's arm, and in return, the young boy kicked water from a puddle towards her playfully. Kaoru's eyes narrowed in a glare and she picked up the child, slinging him over her shoulder stubbornly. Shinta protested just as stubbornly, but Kaoru's determination won over, and the two of them were soon sheltered from the rain. Kenji rose an eyebrow musingly; it didn't matter if they were sheltered now. Both were soaking wet.

"Do you want to get sick?" Kaoru spat towards Shinta, who grinned impishly. The child stuck his tongue out at his "beloved mother"... something that Kenji found, much to his chagrin, very much like Shinya Myogin. Kaoru obviously saw the likeliness to the Myogins and rapped her son over the head (none-too-gently), telling him to respect his mother. It was when Shinta didn't reply that Kaoru opened her eyes, which had been closed during her scolding; she gasped upon seeing Shinta lying in the mud, swirly eyes and all. Kenji thought of his father with a twinge of embarrassment.

"Gaah! Kenshin!" Kaoru shrieked, picking up Shinta and shaking him furiously. Kenshin stood from his own position on the porch and raced over to his wife and son, no doubt trying to hide the smile threatening to form on his lips. Kaoru was nearly hysterical. "K-Kenshin, Shinta is...!"

"Oro," was all her husband offered in return, kneeling down in the mud and staring at his swirly-eyed son. Shinta bore defining characteristics of both parents; his hair was red and his eyes were a light shade of blue that Kaoru attributed to.

Neither Ai or Kenji took much notice of Shinta's condition; rather, both were facing the gate. Although their vision was marred by the pouring rain, both saw a tall figure. Suspicion filled his mind, but as soon as it came, it left; if Kenshin (who had obviously sensed it by now) was not worried, then there was nothing to fear. Despite these assuring thoughts, Kenji couldn't shake off the annoyance. Who would come to visit so early?

The gate was tried, and Kenji heard a curse used in a male's voice. He stood, grabbing his mother's parasol to shelter him from the rain, and walked briskly towards the gate. Upon recognizing the man, Kenji's eyes widened. He hadn't seen Sano in so long - the "stupid freeloader", as Kaoru so dearly called him, had stopped by for a visit when Kenji was eight. Ai and Shinta had been far too young then to remember. Kenji had also found it difficult to remember, but the memories came quickly.

"Oi, Kenshin," the tall man spat, "open the gate already." But upon further inspection, the older man's eyes widened slightly, and a mischevious smile broke out on his sparsely whiskered face. Kenji's expression of surprise had gone to that of irritation. The mistake in identities had been made many times before. He disliked it; Kenji had a name, and he preferred that it wasn't his father's. Sano took no notice of this irritation. "Kenji. Sorry about that, haven't seen you since you were a brat." The word 'brat' was Sano's way of expressing affection for children, Kenji supposed.

"What brings you, Sagara-san?" Kenji asked. There was a chill to his tone, but Sano didn't notice it. He merely grinned again, waving a hand.

"There's no need for formalities, kid," he said as he tapped on the gate. "Mind opening up now? I'm freezing my a--"

"Sano!" Kaoru cried from her position next to the newly-awakened Shinta. Despite the rain, Kenji's mother raced towards the gate. Kenji took a moment to register his mother's expression: rather than happy, she looked enraged. Such was to be expected; from her stories of him, Kenji had been informed that Sano was a no-good freeloader. The one visit with him at the age of eight had been quite enough to understand that, even at such an age.

Kaoru quickly unlocked the gate, despite the quite mutters of her son, and met Sano with her fists in place of an embrace. Sano, caught off guard, stood at the gates stupidly as Kaoru's powerful fist connected with his head. Kenji's eyes widened slightly as he saw the man hardly flinch. Instead, he placed a hand to his offended head, snorting.

"Geez, Jo-chan, lighten up," he muttered. Kaoru did no such thing.

"Lighten up?" she spat furiously. "You've been gone for _nine more years... _after you visited for _two days _last time... you only come back now, and you want me to lighten up?" She whacked him over the head again, and, had Kenji his father's mouth, he would have "oro"ed. Kenshin, with Shinta perched on his shoulders, did just that. Ai was still on the porch, watching the scene with melancholy eyes.

"Finally!" Sano muttered as he ran to the porch, taking shelter from the pouring rain. Kaoru shouted at him as the man relieved himself of his favorite shirt, squeezing it out and taking no notice of the hardwood floor underneath him. Kenji quietly informed him of his mistake; throwing Kaoru a worried glance, Sano held his shirt over the edge of the porch and finished squeezing it. It was only when Ai moved that he noticed her; the tall man jumped back at the sight of the small girl.

"Holy sh--" he began, but he was cut off as Kaoru delt him another blow to the head.

"Don't swear around my kids," she said promptly as he turned to her for an excuse to her actions. "Especially Ai. She's too innocent to be exposed to your dirty mouth."

"That's Ai?" Sano half-croaked as he scrutinized the little girl. Upon realizing that he was receiving the same kind of inspection, the older man placed a hand behind his head, grinning and laughing nervously. "Yo, kid. The name's Sagara Sannosuke. But to my good friends, being Jo-chan, Kenshin, and whoever comes outta Jo-chan's belly courtesy of Kenshin-" Kenji could hear both of his parents' reactions - Kaoru shouted and Kenshin oroed yet again, "-Sano is just fine." Sano extended a hand, one which Ai stared at in mild confusion. Instead of taking the hand, she bowed.

"It's nice to meet you, Saga-... Sano," she murmured. Sano whistled, amazed.

"Jo-chan, this kid looks a lot like you, but she doesn't scream half as much."

"Shut it, Sano," Kaoru spat. "I only 'scream' at people who deserve it." While the two exchanged words, Kenshin approached, his usual smile gracing his features. Shinta eagerly jumped from his father's shoulders and ran to Ai's side, watching the tall man with wide eyes.

"And this is Shinta?" Sano questioned. "Ai's twin?" Both Kenshin and Kaoru nodded. Sano stared at the small boy, who stared back. Finally, Sano drew up to his full height, looking over at Kenshin and whispering, "Is he as stupid as Kenji used to be?"

"Sano," Kaoru growled, "I'm serious."

"As you always are, Jo-chan." Shinta, however, did not seem worried about being thought of as stupid. Kenji resisted any urges to defend his own childhood wisdom. The youngest son of the Himuras saved Sano from Kaoru's wrath by grinning deviously and pointing a finger at Sano.

"Your hair," he began, his lips curling into a sneer, "It looks... like..."

"A rooster, Shinta," Kaoru supplied, smiling dotingly at her son. Shinta, however, did not have that answer in mind. He did pause and stare at Sano, nodding silently.

"I had a porcupine in mind, but roosters are good too," he said, to which Kaoru snickered and Sano put on a look of disgust. Kenshin merely smiled nervously.

"Sano," he began, eager to change the subject, "how long will you be staying in Tokyo?" To this, Sano plopped himself down on the dojo porch and sighed, crossing his legs and closing his eyes in contentment.

"The police still think I'm somewhere off in the world, that's for sure," he began. "I'm thinking that I'll stay as long as the man of the house says so, eh, Kenshin?" Kenshin, realizing that he had been put on the spot, sighed. Kaoru sniffed indignantly.

"The _woman _of the house owns the house," she pointed out tartly. "And I say that you're staying for a few months at least... I'll write to Megumi," she suddenly said, bringing a fist down on her palm. Sano immediately snapped to attention, gaping at Kaoru as she brought out a peice of paper and a brush.

"You wouldn't."

"Why not?" Kaoru sneered, bringing a few characters onto the paper. Sano fell silent, but Kenji saw his eyes flick over to his right hand for a split second. The young man caught site of a peice of bandage; remembering his mother's stories about the Futae no Kiwami, he silently shook his head. No doubt, Sano had overdone it again with the attacks. It had been seventeen years since his last check-up on that hand, and it still hadn't healed properly. Kaoru easily caught onto this fact.

"You still haven't let that hand heal up?" she asked, eyes wide. Sano shrugged.

"Things happen, Jo-chan. Travelling the world is no picnic, y'know, and I had to defend myself." Kaoru merely snorted.

"Why did you have to travel the whole world at all?" she demanded. "You could've just waited it out in China, then return. But nooo..."

"Let's go visit Yahiko," Kenshin suddenly cut in. Kaoru rose an eyebrow quizzically. It was still pouring. Kenshin, however, was not deterred. As Kenji handed his mother her parasol, his father dashed into the house, returning with three more.

Kenshin distributed the parasols, then took the one with Kaoru; Sano, upon receiving his, merely snorted and slung it over his shoulder in an attempt to look manly while holding one. Ai and Shinta held on to their own; the storm outside was violent, but with both of their strength, they could keep their parasol in hand. Kenji, loathed to let himself get wet, followed the group under his own umbrella. He surveyed the family silently. He knew that he was part of this family, but as he thought of it, he knew that it was strange. He was different from them. He loved them, but every day he saw the rift between them grow.

Sano walked beside Ai and Shinta to prevent them from losing control of their umbrella. Kenshin and Kaoru, pressed close in order to share the umbrella, exchanged words that Kenji could not make out. The constant rain prevented him from making out the words, but after hearing his mother giggle lightly, he decided that it was nothing to be concerned with.

xXx

"...Sano left before he got to see Shinya-kun, didn't he?" Kaoru whispered. Kenshin nodded. "We didn't really get around to telling him, either... but neither did Yahiko. I don't think he wanted the embarrassment."

"There's nothing embarrassing about having children," Kaoru huffed. She glanced ahead, watching the twins as they held their parasol, then threw a glance back. Kenji was the definition of silence; an aura darker than that of her other children surrounded him. Kaoru bit her lip. Kenshin, having traced her gaze, allowed the smile to drop from his lips.

"I'm worried about him, Kenshin," she murmured. It was hard to hear her, even with the closeness they shared. "When we got married... when I was pregnant with Kenji..." she fell silent for a moment, a slight flush of embarrassment tinging her cheeks. It was not her usual nervousness; there was a sadness around her, a sadness very much like that of Ai. "...I was worried that... that you would leave. Getting up every morning scared me, because I thought... I thought that you would be gone." She looked to the muddy ground beneath her, her features weighed down with guilt. "I'm sorry."

"It's nothing to be sorry about," he murmured, gripping her hand in his own. It was at times like this that he was greatful for the rain that surrounded them, closing them off to the outside world until they reached their destination. "But my leaving is no longer something to worry about. Kaoru," he leaned close, brushing her ear with his lips, "I cannot leave my family now. I have you to thank for that."

"Oi," Sano leaned in suddenly, a devious grin on his face. "Look at you two. Same way as the day you were married." Kaoru's blush was hidden by her hair as she looked down, but Kenshin merely smiled. "I can't get enough of her, Sano."

Sano whistled. "I bet you can't." Kaoru glared at him, but her eyes were smiling. Kenshin's compliments always worked that effect on her; no matter what mood she was in, she became happy. Sano had been the first to notice this during the time Kenshin and Kaoru had been officially "together".

"All the same," she murmured, once they had retreated a few steps away from Sano and the other parasols, "I worry that Kenji... that he will feel he needs to wander." She bit her lip again, worried. "Maybe I don't trust my son enough... but I still worry..."

"He has never openly expressed the need," Kenshin murmured. "But he makes me think of myself during the Bakamatsu." Kaoru inhaled sharply, but there was no doubt that she had been expecting this. "Kenji is independent... if we attempt to keep him penned in, he will leave all the sooner."

"But he will leave," Kaoru murmured, finding that her throat had suddenly tightened. The parasol shook as her grip on it did so. The thought of her son, her first child, leaving her... it cut into her heart. As Kenshin watched his wife suffer, he felt his own soul scream. He pressed his hand to her shoulder.

"Kenji loves his family. He loves his home. He is strong; even in these times of peace, were he required to defend himself, he would be capable." Kaoru shuddered at the thought of her son fighting for real, but Kenshin continued. "If Kenji ever left Tokyo, he would return."

"Why would he leave in the first place...?" Kaoru murmured gently. But even as she asked it, she what he would say: Kenji needed to find his answer. The answer to his past crimes had been Kenshin's goal. It had been such a high priority. In order to achieve happiness... no, in order to know if happiness would be allowed at all... Kenshin had searched for his answer. In the end, and in possibly the most ruthless of ways, he had found it. Kenji did not have his father's past weighing him down, but all the same, he had an answer he needed to find. Kaoru did not know what drove her son to find this; then again, maybe everybody needed to find one. Kenshin's had been to live, as had Megumi's. Sano's had been to find the happiness that had left him when he had seen Sagara Sozo's head on display in the street. Yahiko's had been to live and learn, free of the bonds the yakuza had placed on him. Kaoru's... she smiled at the thought and glanced over to her husband. She had found her answer in a rurouni wandering the streets of Tokyo. All the same, thinking of Kenji's leave caused her great worry. But if it was what he needed, then she would allow it.

She would allow him to find his answer.

xXx

The eyes of Yahiko Myogin were wide as he gaped at Sagara Sanosuke.

Then, without taking notice of the others, he turned and slammed the door.

Silence fell upon the group.

"Ya-hi-ko!" Kaoru screeched, banging on the door. "It's soaking out here! Let us in!" In a few moments, the door opened, but it was not Yahiko who had done so. Tsubame, with one hand on the door frame and another on her stomach, gasped and allow the group in. Shinya Myogin was at her side, looking rather worried. Tsubame did look unusually pale.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled as the group entered the door, each giving their own thanks. "Yahiko isn't feeling well... I know he means well, Sano-san..."

"Che," Sano snorted. "He's just--" Then he was cut off as he locked eyes with Shinya. Sano's eyes went wide; Shinya cocked an eyebrow, confused.

"Tsubame!" Sano suddenly croaked. "Wh-who the hell is this?" Tsubame's eyes went wide, and Shinya suddenly looked terribly irritated. His eyes matched Yahiko's perfectly. The only thing that suggested he had any ties to Tsubame was the shade of his hair, which was a slightly lighter shade of brown than Yahiko's.

"Uh, Sano-san, this is Shinya... he's Yahiko and my..." she suddenly felt silent, stuttering. Even speaking about her marriage and child with Yahiko made her nervous. "...son..."

Sano, who should have been expecting such a thing, was shell-shocked. Shinya stepped forward, unaware of the fact that this stranger was in fact a good friend.

"You're making mother uncomfortable," he said coldly. "Please leave." Sano, in sharp contrast to the exit Shinya obviously expected, laughed.

"He's just like the brat," he muttered, and Shinya's features darkened. Kenji indulged himself in a chuckle; the laughter did not go unnoticed. Kenshin glanced at his son, but Shinya glared. Yahiko, rubbing his temples furiously, walked around the corner.

"Where have you been all this time?" he snapped. Sano shrugged. "When Kenshin and Kaoru told me you visited last time, I expected you to visit us! But no... you just ran off again! Feh!" A sneer found its way across Yahiko's face. "You should've seen how pissed Megumi was!"

"Whatever," Sano muttered, quite obviously shaken by the thought of Megumi being angry at him for not visiting. "You should talk. Look at Tsubame! Married and with a kid... poor girl." Tsubame blushed furiously, mumbling about how she was honored to be Yahiko's wife (etc, etc), and Yahiko glared.

"She's not feeling well," he finally muttered, collapsing against the wall. He continued to rub his forehead with a free hand. "We'll be taking her to the doctor tomorrow, but..." he glanced over to Kenshin. "I know you can read ki and stuff like that... you don't know how much I wish I could do that right now." Kenshin's eyes went wide, but he said nothing. After a moment, it was Kaoru who understood.

"A-ah! Tsubame-chan, are you...?"

Tsubame blushed again. "I don't know," she croaked. "If I am, I..." she looked down guiltily. "I may be too old. I... I don't want to rin the Myogin family name..." She averted her eyes from Yahiko. Everybody was silent for a moment, then Kenshin looked to Shinya.

"Shinya-dono, do you think you could take Ai, Shinta, and Sano for a moment? Show Sano around the house." Shinya nodded, glancing over to Kenji, who merely shrugged his shoulders. As far as anyone was concerned, he was old enough to hear this. As soon as everybody had gone and the footsteps had faded away, Kenshin's smile slipped.

"Tsubame-dono, I would not completely trust my word when it comes to this matter, but..." he trailed off for a moment, but continued, "...when I entered the house, I felt something a little... off around you. It was the same way when Kaoru was pregnant." Tsubame looked down, her face conveying many emotions at once. One was happiness, another worry, the third guilt... Yahiko, reading all of these emotions with ease, looked down.

"Mother, Father," Kenji began, realizing the seriousness of the situation, "I think we should find Shinta and Ai. We can bring Sano-san back later, when the rain has stopped." Tsubame made to protest, but Kenji lifted a hand. "This matter is personal. Excuse me for being upfront, but I believe you've been along for about two weeks now." The two let out small gasps, and Kenshin's eyes widened once again, but he said nothing. Kenji stood and made for the door from which Ai and Shinta had left.

xXx

Once the last person had left, Yahiko turned and faced Tsubame. A mixture of emotions was in his mind, the first and foremost being joy. Other emotions soon clouded that one, however. Tsubame was... reluctant. Did she not want...? The thought mortified him, but he could not force her into something she did not want. He would never do that.

"Tsubame," he murmured. His wife flinched.

"I'm so sorry, Yahiko," she choked, bringing her hands up to her face. "I'm thirty-two... I'm too old..." She was halted from any attempt to continue as her husband wrapped his arms around her soothingly, sighing into her shoulder.

"Yahiko..." she murmured, returning the embrace.

"Do you want it?" he croaked, loathed if she were to say no. He wanted it. He wanted it so much, and it would emotionally scar him to even think of destroying it, but he would if he had to. If she thought differently, he would comply.

"Yes," she responded. "But... it won't... hurt your reputation, would it...?"

The happiness upon receiving her answer vanished. She was worried for him. She didn't want the eyes of society to see this a bad way. It wasn't such a horrible thing, though; older women had had children, and they had done so without being hated by society.

"You worry too much," he finally replied, smiling into her neck. "Everything will be fine."

xXx

The desire to leave the futon, to taste the fresh air and to feel the heavy metal at his side, was overpowering him. Kenji had been fighting this for about a week now, and even as he fought with it now, he felt that it was worse than any other time.

He wanted to leave.

It was such a horrible thing to think, he knew. His mother was always nervous about the people in her family leaving; she had explained this several times to him, using his father as an example. Kenshin had never left her side, and Kenji was sure that he wouldn't.

Was it such a bad thing that _he_ wanted to leave?

_to be continued..._

A/N: Most chapters won't be as long as this, but I won't be able to update on a regular basis. School and stuff... y'know. Sorry for any errors you come across, I'm too lazy to spell-check right now... I will on future chapters.


	2. Encounter and Departure

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin.**

"I'm so happy for Tsubame-chan and Yahiko," Kaoru said as she ate her food animatedly. Kenshin, smiling as usual, nodded. "It's not that old, considering some of the other women I've heard about..." she trailed off, somewhat reluctant to openly gossip about others. "I just hope the baby isn't too much like Yahiko." Except Yahiko. She could gossip about her student all she wanted.

"They are very lucky," Kenshin replied after swallowing the rice he had recently cooked. Ai nodded silently; Shinta merely ignored the topic conversation, more concentrated on the art of swallowing a noodle and finding a way to make it dangle from his nose. Kaoru sighed as she watched her son amuse himself. She then glanced over to Kenji, who ate his food silently. Upon sensing his mother's worried look, he offered her a smile; it did not compare to that of her husband's. It was very easily seen to be forced.

"What about you, Kenji?" she asked, smiling back. "You predicted how long Tsubame-chan had been along... did Kenshin tell you earlier?"

"No," Kenji replied after finishing his portion and setting the bowl aside politely. When he did not elaborate, Kaoru suppressed another sigh; was it just a stage? Kenji, being their first child and somewhat of a guinea pig when it came to learning about teenagers, baffled her sometimes. No doubt, he baffled Kenshin too. Even as she thought this, Kaoru could see her husband regarding their son with inquisitive eyes.

"How did you know?" she finally asked, loathed to let the silence linger. Kenji looked at her with quizzical eyes, his mouth in a straight line. For a moment, he did not speak, but when he did, his voice was that of a confused child's.

"Didn't you notice?" he questioned. "Ever since two weeks ago, I noticed Tsubame-san's pregnancy." After a pause, his eyes widened slightly, as if he couldn't believe that he was the only one who noticed. "Whenever we saw her, she seemed... strange. Like she had two heartbeats for every one." When a silence met him, Kenji repeated his former question, "Didn't you notice?"

"I didn't," Kenshin added cheerfully. "Not until we visited her today." Beneath his smile, however, Kenshin held back a barrage of questions and worries. Kenji had sensed the pregnancy before he had, and with no training in the matter of chi or any such thing. He merely _knew. _Such a thing hadn't come to Kenshin for a while after his apprenticeship with Hiko, which had probably been due to the hellishness of the training itself. Even thinking of the multiple smacks against his person made him sigh; Hiko had always been ruthless. And here was Kenji, who had never been forced into such a thing, and he could see it faster than his own father could.

It was a bit worrisome.

Sano, who had joined them for lunch (once again) merely sighed and sat back, making to put his feet on the table. Kaoru intervened with a glare, and the free loader stopped there, resuming a more polite position.

"I can't imagine Yahiko knocking her up," he said rather loudly, to which Ai looked away and Shinta laughed loudly. Kaoru smacked both her son and Sano on the head (Sano received a much more forceful smack) and waved a finger at the rooster.

"What did I tell you about talking like that around my kids?"

"Geez, Jo-chan, I wasn't swearing..."

"That doesn't make a difference! It's just..." she blushed slightly, trailing off. Sano grinned deviously towards her.

"What? Jealous that you're not gettin' so--" but before he was allowed to continue, Kaoru smacked him over the head again, then stood. She gathered Shinta and Ai's hands in her own, then proceeded to leave the dining area. Kenshin merely sighed as the shoji door slid shut behind her.

"Maybe you should avoid getting her so angry," Kenshin advised Sano, who merely shrugged and said something about Jo-chan's smacks being a sign of endearment. Kenji suppressed a laugh; if such things were signs of affection, his mother would have beaten him to a pulp by the time he was ten. Kaoru could be gentle when the time called for it... even if it was beyond common knowledge. Kenshin merely sighed and grabbed the dishes of his wife and children, then glanced up to Sano. "Are you done?"

"No," Sano said as he shoved a few more helpings of food down his throat with incredible speed. In a matter of seconds, the rest of the food had vanished; setting down his chopsticks and burping (without Kaoru to make sure he behaved), he nodded. "Done."

"It wouldn't be a bad idea to walk around Tokyo, would it?" Kenshin asked brightly. "After all, you've been gone for so long... people will have missed you." Sano merely snorted, to which Kenshin, who had attempted to make the mood bright, looked downtrodden. The former rurouni changed tactics. "If you don't come... Kaoru will finish the letter, and Megumi-dono will arrive in a few days. And Kaoru will make sure you're here to greet her."

Sano was immediately on his feet and walking towards the door. "Let's not keep Jo-chan and the kids waiting, Kenshin!" Then he turned back to Kenji, raising an eyebrow. "You comin' Kenji?" In reply, Kenji merely shook his head; turning on his heel silently, the youth left the room. Kenshin watched his son leave somewhat sadly, and Sano, once the boy was out of ear shot, grunted. "He's really polite."

"More polite than you, although that really isn't saying much," Kenshin said defensively. Sano's eyes widened upon hearing the acid-like tone leave the smaller man's mouth, and, instantly regretting it, Kenshin sighed again. "Sorry. It's just... if anyone should understand Kenji, it's his father. But I find myself just as confused as anybody." He paused, looking a bit solemn. "I feel useless around him."

"Must be a phase," Sano offered in a drawl. "Teenagers act like that all the time, s'all." A silence descended upon them for a moment, and Sano, growing quite aware of it, clapped a hand heartily on the former rurouni's shoulder. "Let's move it!" However, in his haste to leave, Sano had forgotten his size and strength; Kenshin fell face-first to the floor, his eyes swirling. "Orororo..."

"You're not that useless," Sano said, once Kenshin had recovered and they were following Kaoru down the muddy road. "You were talking about him with Jo-chan last night, right? You're all about psychobabble, Kenshin." Kenshin merely "oro"ed again, and Sano laughed, taking this as encouragement. "Remember that Soujiro kid? His brain was going in circles by the time you were done with him! And Aoshi! It takes more than a stupid little ol' man to fix those kinds of situations!" As Sano ranted, Kenshin felt the urge to go swirly-eyed again, had he the ability to do it on purpose; none of those situations had been terribly easy to fix, but he had remedied them nonetheless. He knew what Kenji wanted: to travel, to find his own reasons for existence. The young man could not be satisfied with the humdrum routine life, despite the fact that his father had found that this way of living was a blessing. Kenji did not understand that the life he lived was in fact the calm in the middle of a storm. He could not grasp the fact that he was lucky. Even in the era of Meiji, horrible things still happened every day. Kenshin himself had been troubled with these thoughts, at first. But all the same, he kept to his own ideals: protecting the people around him was the most he could accomplish. He could not lift the weight of everybody's lives on his shoulders, but he could protect those he chanced upon.

Kenshin could not feel any of this coming from Kenji. His son had not lived through the Bakamatsu, and therefore he did not feel that he needed to protect an infinite amount of human lives. He did not have atonement motivating him. But all the same, looking out for people was something he would do, given the situation. Even with the ability to look after people, having nobody to constantly watch out for might have given Kenji a feeling of uselessness. Was that what his son wanted? Motivation? Something to protect?

The line came back to Kenshin so simply, so quickly, that he only recognized it after a brief moment of silence within his mind. Something to protect. Kenshin's mind immediately flashed to Kaoru, to Ai and Shinta, to Kenji himself... and to all of the people his life had been touched by. The need to protect had tied him down without him noticing it. It had made leaving for Kyoto all the harder; it had made seeing Kaoru's body, broken and bleeding against the dojo wall during Enishi's Jinchu all the more agonizing.

If Kenji were allowed to leave... if he were allowed to find something to protect...

Would it give him his answer?

As Kenshin and Sano caught up with Kaoru and the children, and as Kenshin twined his own fingers between his wife's, he knew that it was most definitely true.

xXx

Kenji envied Sanosuke.

He had envied him ever since the older man had arrived at the dojo gate, calling him by his father's name. He had envied him when he had been told of the various lands he had been to: Mongolia, America, Taiwan, and many, many more places... As he had learned of each and every one of these countries, Kenji had felt an irresistible urge rise within him. Even as he thought of it now, he found yet another person to be victim to his jealousy: his father.

Kenshin had wandered Japan for ten years. Why had he stopped? Just for his mother, just for the home that had greeted him with open arms? Had it been Kenji, he would have at least missed the adventure that came with wandering, but it seemed that his father was completely content with his home and family. Kenji had nothing against his family; no, he loved them more than any other living thing. But all the same, he would have secretly longed to be outside, to be free. He didn't need to be in Kenshin's position to wish for those things. He wanted them now.

And yet, Kenji hadn't dared to ask Sano about the finer details, although it almost pained him to refrain from such questions. His father probably already knew of his longing for something other than the dull life he led; that was perfectly fine with him. Kenji knew that his father would be silent about it, if only for the sake of comfort for others. But there would be a time when his father would corner him and worm answers out of him, answers that Kenji would not feel inclined to give. Kenji knew of his father's stubbornness; sometimes, he wondered if that was how he clicked so well with his mother. Both of them had the stubbornness of a mule, although Kenji would never tell Kaoru that (out loud). As long as Kenshin did not make his son's wishes public, he would be fine. There would be no need to worry about other's opinions.

Despite his willingness, something held Kenji back. He hadn't given it much thought; he didn't want to decide against his current plans. But during the rare times in which he acknowledged it, he knew that it was his family keeping him. The people he loved were the sole reason for Kenji staying. They were the only thing standing between the young man and the outside. Kenji mentally hissed; it was such a pathetic thing, he realized. But all the same, it was something he did not wish to part with hastily.

As Kenji continued to contemplate these things (he felt like Aoshi Shinomori, whom he had known for a few years now), he noted to himself that parting with them would be extremely difficult. The seventeen year old man... no, the seventeen year old boy, who had not become an adult yet, brushed strands of brown hair away from his eyes and surveyed the sky above him. The clouds were the opposite of the ones on display in the morning; the only signs of there ever having been a storm lingered along the muddy roads in the form of puddles. Kenji nodded to himself, confirming his thoughts.

Leaving them would be hard.

But staying penned up would be even harder.

xXx

"Father," Ai began quietly, pulling on Kenshin's sleeve, "Shinta is still at the Akebeko."

"Oro?!" Kenshin croaked, whirling around and dashing in the direction from which they had come, leaving a stunned Kaoru and a silent Ai in his absence. It was very simple, really: Shinta + Akebeko disaster. It had been many a time when the troublesome boy had made a mess of the restaurant, and Tae, despite the fact that she and Kaoru were very good friends, had taken her rage out on Kenshin. For every time their son had trashed the place, Kenshin had cleaned it up. And if anybody knew how to ruin a place properly (Kenshin doubted that there was such an art before his second son came along), it was Shinta. Kaoru, having seen her husband run after their son many a time, merely sighed.

"Sometimes I wonder why you two are twins," she grumbled, gathering Ai's hand in her own. Her daughter merely offered a tiny smile.

"Shinta-nii doesn't act at all like me," she agreed, "but his difference makes our home all the happier." Kaoru's eyes widened slightly as her daughter spoke; sighing yet again, her shoulders slumped.

"My daughter is smarter than me," she muttered, crossing her arms. In reply, Ai merely closed the gap between the two and matched her mother's pace. The time it would take Kenshin to return with Shinta would vary greatly: if he was able to rescue the Akebeko before the child trashed it, he would be back fairly quickly. If Shinta beat Kenshin to his goal, then it would take hours; Kenshin would have to clean up the mess. As both mother and daughter evaluated this in their minds, both sighed (Ai doing so in a much more silent manner).

"Tae is doomed," Kaoru muttered as she opened the dojo gate and allowed her daughter in. Ai nodded. As the two reached the porch and removed their sandals, Kaoru caught a glimpse of Kenji's pale hand retreating into his room. "Ai, I'm going to go see Kenji." Ai murmured a reply, but Kaoru could not hear it; instead, she was more focused on the concern she felt for her first son. Kaoru silently slid the shoji door open, just enough to allow herself in. After entering the dark room, she closed the door behind her and scanned the room for her son. Her eyes took a moment to adjust to the darkness, but when they did, she easily spotted him. The teenager was sitting against the corner of the room, his eyes half-closed but not unaware of his current situation. Kaoru knelt down and leveled herself with Kenji, worry flashing through her features. His sitting position reminded her very much of Kenshin; although he had caught her watching him many times in his sleep before their marriage, Kaoru had caught glimpses of him. Sitting upright, sakabatou in hand; such a thing had taken a long time to change, but Kaoru was happy that it had changed all the same.

"Kenji?"

Kenji's eyes opened fully and he glanced towards his mother, offering her a small smile that seemed a bit forced. He looked to have been in deep thought.

"Yes, Mother?"

"Are you feeling all right?" she asked, reaching a hand out and touching his forehead. Kenji did not object. "You've been distant lately." In reply, her son merely shook his head, adopting another smile; Kaoru frowned, mentally noting that any child of Kenshin's should have perfected the goofy smile. Heck, Shinta had it by the age of two. Ai didn't have it, but... well, she was a girl. Kaoru liked to think that her daughter, being that she was a girl, was smarter than her more primate-like sons. She did love them. But there was no denying that Shinta was a monkey.

"I'm fine, Mom," he said, adopting a more casual tone. "It's nothing to worry about." But Kaoru's face said that she would indeed worry, as she had always done. Kenji noted that his parents were and would always be world-class worrywarts.

"Are you sure?" It was almost a routine for Kaoru to ask for reassurance; Kenji nodded again. Kaoru was suddenly reminded of the conversation she had with Kenshin hours earlier, and she inwardly grimaced. She loathed the idea of chasing her son away. What if he didn't want to leave? What if Kenshin's predictions were, for the first time she could remember, wrong? Even as Kaoru thought this, she knew that she was thinking far too childishly. "Kenji, are you..." she hesitated, apprehensive, "...are you unsatisfied?"

Even as Kenji heard the word, he knew what his mother was getting at. His gaze dropped to the floor and his lips moved, although no sound came from them. Receiving this talk from his father had been something he had expected, but getting it from his mother... that was the polar opposite of it.

"Of course not..." he began, but he knew that the words were useless. His throat went dry as he finished them. Kaoru's gaze also fell to the floor sadly, and Kenji felt a pang of guilt; he hated making his mother sad. He quickly evaluated his feelings on the matter and found, much to his chagrin, that Kaoru was completely right. But saying this would be cruel. Licking his dry lips, Kenji searched his mind for something that would satisfy the both of them. "Half..."

Kaoru's eyes widened slightly upon hearing yet another word from the past resurfacing, and she bit her lip.

_"Kenshin, I followed you... are you mad at me?"_

_"...Half of me is. But the other half is... a little relieved."_

So many things about Kenshin had resurfaced in Kenji, and such things would continue to do so. Kaoru had no say in the matter; attempting to keep them from happening would, in the end, be rejecting both her husband and her son. She could never bring herself to do that. Kaoru bit back a sob as she wrapped her arms around her son, rocking him gently back and forth. Kenji did not attempt to pull away. Rather, he placed his arms on his mother's shoulders, returning the embrace gently. Both were silent for a moment, and Kenji found himself dreading his mother's next words. Kaoru surprised him.

"Kenji, just... just be happy," she said, smiling at him despite her obvious emotions on the matter. "That's all I want from you, your father... from my family." Then she stood, and, offering her son another smile, exited the room. Kenji found that he had no words, but upon further thinking, realized that he had not planned to speak at all. His own mother wanted him to do what would make him happy. Why couldn't he indulge himself?

There was one more thing, however...

The sakabatou.

xXx

"Kenshin-san, I swear...!"

"Oro," Kenshin mumbled under his breath before putting on a smile and bowing deeply to Tae, all the while keeping Shinta latched firmly under his arm. "I'm truly very sorry, Tae. It won't happen aga--"

"Don't give me that," Tae spat, crossing her arms. "You've said that ever since the first time Shinta-kun trashed my restaurant, and it hasn't stopped." To this, Shinta sniggered; Kenshin, in a very uncharacteristic act, stomped on his son's foot while keeping his smile intact. Before the man was allowed to make any more apologies, Tae waved her hands, signaling that she was in too poor of a mood to put up with them. "Just put that kid on a leash! I feel sorry for Kaoru-chan!" Then she turned and, with the glare of a business woman who had just been seriously pissed, slammed the door behind her. Kenshin and Shinta were left in the dust.

"Shinta Himura," Kenshin said (attempting to maintain a calm attitude but failing) as the two walked down the street. "You have _got _to stop that... you're eleven. Not five." Kenshin could've sworn he heard Shinta "oro", which wouldn't have been such a surprising thing considering his son's appetite for his strange words, but no further words were given on the matter. "Why do you insist on trashing the _Akebeko_, of all places? If you have pent-up energy, then you could use it to train at the dojo..."

"I take beginners' classes at Mom's dojo," Shinta supplied, hands behind his head in a carefree gesture. The young boy seemed to be a cross of Sano and Yahiko for a second. "But they're not enough."

"Don't let your mother hear that."

"It's not like that," Shinta said. "I work hard, and I'm awesome at it." Kenshin mentally rolled his eyes; trust Shinta to have an ego equivalent to that of Yahiko's. "It's just not enough. I've tried joining other dojos, but they won't allow me in because I'm already a part of the Kamiya Kasshin Ryu. I've also joined some clubs focusing on jujitsu, but..." He trailed off, sighing. "I've still got too much energy, and making ol' Tae screech is fun." He sniggered again. Kenshin rolled his eyes another time, neglecting any methods of concealing it. Shinta was, for lack of better words, a bomb.

"We're stopping by Yahiko's place before we get home," he explained as he took a direction different from that which would take them back to the dojo. "I would have done it earlier, but I had to clean up _your _mess." Shinta merely shrugged, failing to grasp the fact that he had caused his father a good deal of grief. Strike that: he either failed to grasp that fact, or he ignored it altogether. It was probably the latter of the two.

As the two reached the house, Kenshin rapped firmly on the door; this time it was Yahiko who answered, the usual quizzical look on his face. He smiled at Kenshin and looked cautiously at Shinta, who merely mirrored the look. For people who could act so much alike, they were very different in each other's presence. After a moment of silence, Shinya rounded the corner, obviously expecting to see Kenji. Upon realizing that it was Shinta, his look of irritation changed to one of devious happiness. Shinta followed the other boy around the corner without a word, and the two father's were left alone.

"Yahiko," Kenshin began, "had Shinya and Kenji been born in the same year, the matters of the sakabatou would have been decided already. But now is a good time. Shinya is thirteen and Kenji is seventeen... both are two years away from fifteen." Yahiko nodded. Fifteen was the traditional age that both fathers had planned on handing down the sakabatou. It had been unofficial, but it was obvious that Shinya and Kenji would need to fight for it. Both wanted it badly enough. Kenshin continued. "Kenji is planning on leaving soon." Before Yahiko could express his surprise, he pushed on. "He'll return, but I want him to be able to protect himself... it's the Meiji era, but still..." Yahiko nodded, understanding completely. Both felt that the so-called era of piece was a bit of a farce; Kenshin was reluctant to say so due to the fact that so many had sacrificed for the era. Yahiko would say nothing because he had not lived through the Bakamatsu, which was the target of comparison to the Meiji. To the both of them, it was easy to tell that there was too much crime to call the era completely peaceful.

"When is he leaving?" Yahiko asked.

"I don't know exactly," Kenshin admitted. "But I know that it will be soon." Another silence descended upon the two, and Yahiko, realizing the gravity of the situation, sighed.

"If that's the case, we'll put off any competition," he said. Kenshin was about to interject, but Yahiko held up a hand. "Shinya might follow Kenji. I can't guarentee that he won't. But Tsubame, being pregnant and all... he won't leave until she has the baby. And he'll probably get attached, so he may stay even longer. So..." he turned and ran into the house, coming back quickly with the reverse-sword in hand. "...Kenji will have plenty of time with it." Kenshin was almost reluctant to hold the sword; he had held it for so long many years ago, but now, it seemed alien to him. As he closed his fingers around the hilt, Kenshin felt the familiarity of the blade greet him, and he couldn't help but smile.

"Thank you, Yahiko," he said. Yahiko merely grinned, although he did seem somewhat sad to let the blade go.

"It was your's to begin with," the younger man said. Kenshin nodded silently.

It had served him well... would it do the same for Kenji?

xXx

The rain was coming down again.

Kenji sighed irritably; as he had noted before, he hated the rain. Although he had been hardly active before, the current weather restricted him back to his room. Despite his loathing for the weather, the first son of the Himuras found himself itching once again to be outside - to be alone. It was only a minute after this feeling began that Kenji went against his better judgment and grabbed his parasol. They were, as Sano said, girly; and Kenji's figure, along with that of his father's, was somewhat girlish. With the rain as it was, he would be lucky to avoid contact with any men who made... mistakes.

He had wandered a good distance from the dojo when he took a path off the road and into the forest. The sound of raindrops hitting the foliage above covered for the thinning of the rain. Kenji closed his parasol in order to prevent it from snagging on the branches; he twitched slightly upon being struck by sparse droplets, but did nothing in order to prevent it.

Kenji's peaceful surroundings were shattered as the sound of labored breathing met his ears, accompanied by the squelching of the wet mud beneath the newcomer's feet. Fear invaded his senses, a fear that was not his own, but obviously that of the person behind him. Kenji made to turn - he did not do so quickly - and felt something slam into him harshly and fall back. He turned to see a young girl with long, dark brown hair lying in the mud. She looked exhausted; she had been running fast and far, no doubt. Her chest rose and fell and her eyes, misted over by nothing other than a fever, fluttered weakly. Kenji extended a hand.

"Walk much?" he asked coldly. The girl seemed to register the question - her condition was not yet bad enough to impair her - and her brow furrowed. Blue eyes that reminded Kenji of his mother (although those of the girl had a darker shade) glared at him and she refused the hand, staggering to her feet. Kenji was somewhat impressed; she still retained a fearful air about her, but she managed to effectively cover it up. There was no mistaking the fear radiating from her, however.

The girl made to run past him without a word, but another person's labored breathing came to Kenji's hearing; the young man extended an arm, preventing her from moving any further. She pushed at it desperately, but her grip was weak due to the fever. Kenji found the young woman leaning more on his arm than pushing it. Slightly perturbed, he withdrew it, and she fell forward into the mud.

"Chizuru, you...!" A man came into the clearing and upon seeing Kenji, swallowed his next words. Kenji rose an eyebrow quizzically. The girl (Chizuru, most likely) was still lying in the mud, breathing heavily. The older man instantly adopted a more mild attitude as he walked forward, smiling at Kenji.

"I'm sorry, has my daughter bothered you? She has a fever. She was quite delirious, and before we could administer the medicine, she ran out. Has she inconvenienced you?" Although the man radiated malice towards the girl, Kenji merely shrugged and grabbed Chizuru's elbow, hauling her up none too gently. The girl in question hissed between her teeth, but said nothing. The older man took her from Kenji's hold.

"She bumped into me," Kenji merely replied. "It was nothing." The man bowed, giving his thanks. As he turned to leave with the girl dragged behind (she still seemed adamant on escaping), Chizuru looked back, rage in her blue eyes. Rage directed at Kenji.

"Bastard," she hissed in a very unladylike tone. Kenji merely shrugged and grabbed his parasol, making to leave in the direction he had been going at. If she was a frigid young lady, it was really none of his concern. It all boiled down to how her "father" raised her. And judging from the malice Kenji had felt, that man was not her father. But the young Himura was not about to stick his neck out for any passerby. That was an aspect that made him very different from his father.

The girl was soon written off as a mere passerby as Kenji continued on the small road through the forest. The path turned back in the direction from which it had come and Kenji, passive to where it actually led, began his walk back to the dojo. About half an hour passed before he found himself back at the dojo gate; Kenji closed his umbrella, a small, satisfied sigh escaping his lips. As he opened the gate and walked in, he was greeted with Kaoru's glare.

"Where _were_ you?" she demanded. When Kenji replied innocently, her eyes narrowed. "You could've left a note..." Kenji saw relief flash through her eyes. Their talk about his leaving supplied the answer for him: she thought he had already left without a word of goodbye. As she was about to continued berating him, Kenshin placed a calming hand on her shoulder.

"It's all right, Kaoru," he murmured, giving her shoulder a light squeeze. Kaoru sighed and nodded, eyes downcast. It was then that Kenshin pulled something from behind his back; Kenji's eyes widened considerably. Both of Kenji's parents stood and neared him (Kaoru doing so a bit more hesitantly). Kenshin held out the sakabatou, a confident smile on his face. "It's two years late, but... your Genpuku gift." Kenji's eyes widened yet again as the word registered vaguely in his memory. Both Kenshin and Yahiko had told him of a time called Genpuku - when young men came of age according to samurai. It was usually at fifteen, but as his father had just told him, it was two years late. The time it had taken did not matter to Kenji as he reached out hesitantly, gripping the hilt with shaky fingers. It fit his hand perfectly, as if it had been made to do so.

"Kenji," Kaoru suddenly said, her voice shaking slightly, "I know you plan to... l-leave... but..." She was obviously sorting through her mind, looking for anything that might stall the inevitable. "How about Kenshin and I make a big meal tonight to..." She stalled again. "Celebrate" did not seem like the proper word. "...send you off." Kenji merely smiled and embraced his mother, an embrace she returned instantly.

"That'd be great, Mom," he murmured, and Kaoru smiled. He was leaving soon - it was widely known among his family, and he felt a little guilty about it - so he would indulge each of them.

"That's peachy," Sano said, opening the gate with a little difficulty due to the numerous bottles under his arms. "I needed an excuse to bring out the sake." Kaoru sighed, clapping a hand to her forehead, and Kenshin smiled nervously. There was a devious glint in Shinta's eyes, but Kenji was the only one to notice it. He wasn't about to deny his little brother the "joys of sake", as Sano put it... well, to be blunt, Kenji really didn't mind. Shinta acted like he was drunk all the time.

"Where did you get that?" Kaoru asked suspiciously. Sano merely shrugged.

"Katsu. Said it was a 'welcome-home-for-the-time-being' gift." To this, Kaoru merely rubbed her forehead. Katsu was suddenly behind Sano, smiling ominously; Kenshin's eyes narrowed slightly, but he said nothing. Katsu merely said "Yo" and was silent.

"It'll be a big party!" Sano said, grinning and making to open one of the bottles of sake. Kaoru rolled her eyes and jabbed the man sharply in the stomach, causing him to double over. She took the opportunity to relieve him of the numerous bottles. As she stumbled into the house with her burden, Sano, who was no doubt coming up with many ideas about Kaoru's uses for the alcohol, cried after her desperately. "Jo-chan! C'mon! You can't deny a guy his goodies!"

"I'm not," Kaoru spat. "It's just stupid to open them outside... in the _rain, _no less!" As she managed to open the shoji door with Ai's help, Sano leaned over and whispered something best left unheard into Kenshin's ear. The former rurouni paled. Kaoru, having caught fragments of the whispers, turned to both men with her hands on her hips. "What?"

"Just telling Kenshin how I feel bad for him," Sano sneered. "Sake is poison for you, Jo-chan."

"I-I can hold my own drink, thank you!" she stuttered, although the blush on her face was evident enough. It had been more than once that she had acted a little (or a lot, depending on the current status of their relationship) more intimate towards Kenshin under the effects of sake. Sano had only seen this happen a few times, due to his travels, but those few times had been enough for him to fantasize. It didn't take much imagination for the rooster to bloat the facts and make them seem worse than they really are. With these thoughts running through his mind, Sano turned to Kenshin for confirmation.

"How crazy does she get nowadays?" he asked, a grin on his face. Kenshin visibly blushed, but after a sudden surge of boldness, grinned stupidly. Sano practically howled in laughter at the reply he received; Kenshin often gave stupid grins away, but there was a devious meaning behind this one. Kaoru's blush intensified. As Ai and Shinta assisted her with the bottles of sake, she grumbled something about stupid men.

"Oh, yeah," she said, looking over her shoulder with an eyebrow raised. There was no doubting that she adored every second of the news she was about to deliver. "Turns out I never had to send that letter. Megumi-san was coming to Tokyo for a surprise visit. When I saw her at the market earlier, I told her you were just _dying _to see her." As Sano's jaw dropped, Kaoru sniggered. "She'll be by in a few minutes."

"Dammit, Jo-chan! What was that for?"

"What was what for?" Kaoru asked, feigning innocence. "You don't want to see her?" Before Sano was allowed to shake his head, Kaoru closed her eyes, brushing away imaginary tears despite the fact that her arms were already dangerously full. "Do you _hate _her?"

"I never said tha--"

"Then you shouldn't avoid her," Kaoru said as she turned her back and proceeded into the house. "Even if she probably thinks you're not worth it."

"Not worth it?" There was no mistaking the indignance in Sano's voice.

"Well, obviously," Kaoru sniffed. "You're a mess." Then she closed the door behind her primly. Sano turned to Kenshin, baffled.

"Something on my face?" he asked. Kenshin sighed; it really wasn't his position to tell Sano how a woman would see him. It was at that moment that another loud knocking noise came from the gate, followed by Megumi's irritated voice.

"Tanuki-chan, it's raining cats and dogs out here!" she snapped. As she made out the vague forms of Sano and Kenshin standing in the yard, her expression changed. Both men could've sworn they saw fox ears pop up on her head. "Oh, Ken-san! Would you mind on opening the gate for me?" Kenshin sighed lightly but nonetheless complied with the doctor's orders. Sano was completely stiff;any party ideas had obviously been forgotten. As Megumi closed her parasol and daintily removed her shoes on the porch, she sniffed indignantly at him. "You haven't changed."

"And that's a bag thing?" he suddenly burst out, a wily sneer on his face. Megumi sniffed again, but made no direct denials.

Apparently, Megumi wasn't the only one coming to the party.

Yahiko, Shinya, and Tsubame had come along and Kaoru, loathed to keep any one of them (except maybe Yahiko) out in the rain, allowed them in without a second thought. Ayame and Suzume, who had both grown into beautiful young women, had come along. Megumi looked rather miffed as Sano gawked, asking Kenshin if the two little twerps that insisted on playing with "Ken-nii" were really the women sitting in the house. Ayame had cut her hair to the shoulders, preventing it from growing too far. She had also filled out rather nicely. Suzume, on the other hand, had grown her hair out and abandoned the pigtails that she had worn before. Although she was somewhat skinnier than her older sister, the future held promise for her... or so she insisted. Both girls were infinitely fond of Kenji (in a sister-like way).

Everybody partook in Sano's sake, with the exception of Tsubame (she refused on behalf of her pregnancy, but she had never been partial to sake to being with). Even Shinta and Ai, who were far too young for such a thing, tried it out; Ai stopped after a few sips, but Shinta insisted on chugging the sake down until it was literally ripped from his hands by Kaoru. Kaoru herself had one bottle before an all-too-familiar gleam came to her eyes, and she would've dragged Kenshin into their room had there been no company. After Sano pointed this out, Kaoru merely grinned drunkenly and grabbed a few unopened bottles, then vanished. When she returned empty-handed, everybody knew that she had stocked up for a time when she would have her husband to herself. Kenshin himself was quite capable of holding his drink, but after a few bottles (some of which having been shoved down his throat by Sano), he did seem much more swirly-eyed than usual. Shinta had long since passed out; Ai watched the party go on while she sat vigilantly by her brother.

"Kenji-kuuuun," Suzume chirped, her cheeks red. She had obviously undergone the transition from sisterhood to girlishness in her drunk state. She wrapped her arms around his neck, smothering him with wet kisses. Ayame did the same; Kenji hardly managed to push the two of them off without insulting them. _'Girls are scary,' _he resolved as he stared down at his torn gi.

Katsu, who had also obviously had too much sake, sauntered over to Kaoru. "Kamiya-sa-... no, Kaoru-chaaaan," he drawled. His hand wandered; Kaoru stared down at her thigh cluelessly as he rubbed it. Kenshin did not hesitate to knock him out with the blunt edge of his sakabatou. As Kaoru stared, somewhat mortified and very clueless about the whole thing, her husband led her to the other side of the room. Sano merely snorted upon seeing his prostrate friend.

"He was gonna pass out anyway," he said simply. He was not yet fazed by the effects of the sake; he had partaken so much in the past that it took more than a few bottles to get him.

Yahiko had not gone to the point of making a fool of himself, but it was quite obvious that he was influenced. He directed a smoky gaze towards Tsubame, who blushed every time she made eye-contact with her husband. For most of the party, the young man was unusually silent. He seemed perfectly content just watching his wife fret with the children.

Shinya was lying next to Shinta, having passed out earlier. Kenji made a mental note to use this against him, if he ever needed it.

"Arright," Megumi slurred as she stood, half-empty bottle in hand. She pointed staggeringly at Kaoru, who immediately took the challenge and stood (after staggering a great deal more than her rival). "Weee're gonna end this righ' here, Tanushiii-chan!"

"Bring it on!" Kaoru cried, her slur equal (or even more so) to Megumi's. "Washit gonna be?" Megumi was silent for a moment, obviously having failed to think of what she was challenging Kaoru to before announcing it; after glancing over to Kenshin and Sano with glazed-over eyes, a foxy sneer made its way to her lips.

"Shnogging contest!" she cried, pumping a fist in the air. Kaoru planted her hands on her hips.

"You ain't shnogging my husband," she declared, to which Megumi shook her head. It was then that it became almost painfully obvious who she was planning to use; Sano backed away slowly, but Megumi already had a firm hold on his hair. Kaoru had already caught Kenshin before her husband could think to run... although it was quite obvious that Kenshin, in his current state, did not mind. He looked like he was about to enjoy it.

"Kenji!" Kaoru shouted to the boy, being that he was not drunk. "Time us!"

Kenji sighed, but complied.

"Ready, set... go," he said simply. Then he began to count.

The party was only beginning.

xXx

Nobody had left the dojo, but that did not mean they were invited to stay the night. By one in the morning, nearly everybody had fallen asleep against the walls in many uncomfortable positions; Tsubame, being that she had not had any alcohol, had taken charge of putting Ai and Shinta in their room. After that, she had attempted to wake her husband and son up in order to leave, but found that she could do no such thing. Finally resigning herself to her exhaustion, the wife of Yahiko Myogin fell asleep.

Kenji allowed himself the freedom to finally open his eyes; he had long since been expected of sleeping, but in order to spare Tsubame any unwanted grief, he had kept up the facade until he was sure she was also asleep. The young man stood; he could not ignore it anymore. As he walked towards the door, he felt eyes upon him. Turning, Kenji met his father's gaze evenly.

"Are you leaving?" Kenshin questioned. Kenji nodded. "They'll be angry with you. Only your mother and I know you're leaving."

"Stalling for goodbyes would make it harder," Kenji said, almost coolly. He was desperately trying to reject any sadness that threatened to stop him. The young man walked to the wall and grabbed the sakabatou from its place. Shouldering the weapon, he quietly slid open the shoji door and grabbed the bag he had left on the porch. He had been preparing to leave. Kenshin murmured a silent goodbye as he closed the door behind him, bag, sakabatou, and parasol in hand. Kenji smiled at his father; it was something he rarely did, but he found that Kenshin had given him many things that he had taken for granted. As Kenji was about to open the gate, he heard frantic breathing accompanied by the splashes of puddles; almost expecting to see the girl from earlier running towards him, he turned around. Ai.

"Kenji-nii," she croaked as she grabbed his gi. Kenji was silent. "Where are you going?" Kenji read her worries in an instant, then smiled reassuringly, patting her head. Ai's eyes widened. "You're... you're not..."

"It's not forever," he promised, his smile never wavering. "Keep an eye on Shinta, will you?" Then he hardened his heart and turned away, ignoring the pleas of his little sister. They soon died down to silence.

Kenji continued walking down the road, never looking back at the dojo. _'Does this make me like Father?_' he suddenly thought, slightly perturbed. He then shook his head, banishing his worries. The feeling of freedom removed any matters from his system, and he felt the smile creeping back onto his lips.

_Rurouni Kenji._

It had a strange ring to it.

_to be continued..._

_A/N: Woah, the party scene was SO fun to write... xD But it's my first party scene. It's not like I adore making people waste themselves, so don't misinterpret me. It was just... fun. Ha ha. _


	3. Adoration and Irritation

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin.**

Darkness was everywhere. That was the first thing Chizuru was able to register as she blearily opened her eyes - or at least, she _thought _she did - and surveyed her surroundings. Her body inwardly slammed with an intense heat, tearing away at her both mentally and physically. The fever... no, not just the fever. As the young woman attempted to move a hand, she found her movements sluggish and unwilling; stings assaulted her, no doubt caused by the shallow lacerations lining her arms and legs.

She vaguely remembered running, frantic and desperate, yet so terribly weak... unable to actually make progress due to her condition. She could recall taking a road into the forest and running until she had been exhausted; she had ran into a young man who had not allowed her to pass. Chizuru let out a small sigh as she remembered leaning against him, then crashing into the mud. Then that damn Kagami had caught up to her. Her father, he told the boy. Her _father._ Chizuru mentally swore. What kind of idiot believed that junk? '_Obviously that idiot,' _she told herself. Then she recalled having sworn at him rudely... and receiving no response. The young man had retained a cool look about him.

"Chizuru," a voice jolted her from her thoughts. Her eyes widened in fear; so familiar, so cold and calculating. She had known this voice for ages, and she had allowed herself to finally believe she had escaped it. Her beliefs were mere wishes. Footsteps sounded, becoming louder as they grew in number. Before Chizuru could force her weary limbs into action (which probably would have failed drastically), she felt a hand grab at her hair, hauling her up violently. Her scalp was added to the many things that ached. "Running away isn't very nice, you know. I thought you were perfectly content here."

Chizuru didn't answer; she averted her eyes to the darkness, feverishly praying that he would release her and leave. She didn't need any more pain. Kagami - although he was a mere dog in comparison to his master - was terribly good at inflicting pain. Reading her pleading eyes through the darkness, the older man sneered; Chizuru let out a slight yelp as his open hand connected violently with her cheek. The girl, unable to even press a hand to the smarting area, steeled herself for further blows. Kagami obviously felt that it would be fun to "indulge" her. A rain of blows fell, ending as quickly as they had come, but leaving a pain that lasted. Blood fell from the young girl's lip as she strove to keep the sobs inside her mouth. If she was silent, it would be over... if she didn't struggle, it wouldn't hurt as much...

"You think it's over now?" Kagami sneered as he drew his face closer to her's, watching her bite back the pain through the darkness. "If you do, you're sorely mistaken." Her eyes widened, betraying the mask of passiveness she had placed around her; the man watched as she inhaled sharply, releasing her hold on her lower lip. His intentions had become quite clear - they always did after he hit her and threatened her. "Why so surprised?" he questioned mockingly. "As long as you're not permanently damaged, the boss says I can do whatever I want with you." He had said this so often, it was no doubt ingrained into her mind by now. And after he said it, he always made due; Chizuru had been stained in every possible physical way by Kagami and his men. "It's a good thing these drugs hold you down, eh?" he jeered, watching her flinch.

Chizuru shut her eyes and prepared herself for the pain.

She would have nightmares that night.

xXx

Kenji stirred from his sleep in order to find himself in the forest he had been in only yesterday; the only way he could tell the identity of the area was because of the path he had left the night before. He had traveled for a few hours - it had been very early in the morning when he had left, after all - and he had traveled deep into the forest. He was nowhere near gone from Tokyo, he knew that. Eager to leave the city and its surrounding country area, the young man stood promptly and dusted himself off.

It had been ages since he had felt this exuberance, this excitement; had he been as carefree as his friend Misao, Kenji would have been likely to add a skip to his step. Instead, he settled for a quick pace. As he pushed his way through the forest, halting briefly to take in his surroundings, he felt his heart slam in joy. It was almost as though he had escaped into a fairytale... although he would never allow himself to think such a thing outright. The dream still remained locked away in his thoughts, never to be used, but existing there all the same.

Kenji had already decided his first destination: Yokohama. From there, he would take a boat to Kyoto. Kenji had thought of taking a boat directly from Tokyo, but he had denied the thought for two reasons: one, because people like Shinya would no doubt expect that from him and follow if he learned of his departure, and two, because Kenji could not deny himself the walk he had been itching to have for so long. After Kyoto, Kenji would travel Japan; the thoughts of visiting every place he had heard of from his father (although Kenshin had disclosed this information hesitantly) was exhilarating. After he traveled Japan, Kenji would take a boat to China. He had never specified the boundaries of his exploration. He _would _return to Tokyo, if only for the sake of his family, but that would not be for some time.

Kyoto would be the place where Kenji would collect his most valuable of "souvenirs". It had taken him ages to learn of it; Kenshin had absolutely refused to give any information on his training, even though Kenji had been a mere child at the time. He had taken drastic measures to learn of Hiten Mitsurugi and its current master (seeing that his father had turned down the position), Seijuro Hiko. Yahiko had not even realized his blunder; Kenji had arrived at his house under the pretense of playing with Shinya. Despite the fact that Yahiko knew of Kenji's immediate dislike for his son, he nonetheless complied. Then it had been a matter of patience; Kenji had steeled himself and played with the baby Shinya, then he had casually asked about Yahiko's "katana". Yahiko had been quizzical, and had answered every question Kenji had given him after that. Although the memories were vague, Kenji knew enough: he was to find this Seijuro Hiko in Kyoto. He had also heard that Hiko was a stubborn man, one who liked his sake. If he played his cards right, Kenji knew that he would be successful in apprenticing himself to the man. It had taken his father years to master the style; for Kenji, it would be a matter of months. He was confident of his abilities. Maybe a little too confident.

_'Seijuro is said to be overconfident as well,' _he remedied, brushing off the thought. It was nothing to worry about. He would be successful.

Despite the marvelous ways in which he plans were put together (although Kenji was sure other people would protest to his opinions), there were a few flaws. The first and foremost of those was that of the Oniwabanshu. Their base had long-since been established in Kyoto; it had been there before his father had met the ninja Misao, Kenji had been told. If his mother's stories and Misao's bragging counted for anything, the group was composed of talented ninjas, and their methods for gathering information were top-notch. Kenji could either avoid the group or enlist their help. Avoiding them would be further severing his ties in Tokyo; Misao and the others would no-doubt wonder why he had left in the first place. But asking for their help in matters that concerned finding people - such as Seijuro Hiko - would prove very useful.

Kenji had debated going to the Oniwabanshu and pretending he was on a jaunt to Kyoto, due to return to Tokyo in a few days. Okina, despite the fact that he was ancient, still retained an ego for his methods... along with his lust for pretty young women. The young Himura had debated on taking the old man to a bar, showing off some easy young women, and then worming the information out of him once he was sufficiently drunk. But then he thought of Shinomori Aoshi; he immediately gave up on trying to sneak the information out of them. The former Okashira would easily catch on to any plan Kenji devised. It would be easier to simply ask them. But what sort of answer would he receive?

The worst thing Kenji could think of would be Misao's expression becoming hesitant, and then hearing the words, "Sorry Kenji-kun, Seijuro... he's dead." If such a thing were to happen, Kenji would be at a complete loss for any other means to gaining the secrets of Hiten Mitsurugi. His father was crippled with the style, useless when it came to performing it with a sword... and despite the fact that all Kenji needed were words, Kenshin would disclose no information to him. His father knew his abilities too well. After Kenshin and Seijuro, there were no more masters of Hiten Mitsurugi; all others were dead, having been killed by their own pupils. Asking bystanders of Kenshin's fights would be risky; if the person were to give him a faulty description of the attack, he would perform it with flaws. Kenji could not afford flaws.

Despite the fact that he had thought this over many times before, Kenji always found himself going back to the issue. Until he had mastered every move of Hiten Mitsurugi, he would find no rest. He would not be able to still the nervous monster within him that was slowly but surely clawing its way out. The young Himura's brow furrowed thoughtfully; since when had he felt _this? _He could not remember ever having experienced the feeling of having something inside him... desperate to be free, desperate for dominance. Although the feeling was dull now, without alarm, Kenji knew that it would make its way under his skin. At times of danger, it would attempt to break free.

Kenji needed to be wary of this.

He would be in Yokohama soon; it was less than twenty miles from Tokyo. The only thing that had kept him from reaching it much earlier was the time in which he had left. If he kept up a steady walk, he would reach the city by noon. He did not know how he would acquire a boat ticket, but those were minor technicalities. He would sneak aboard a boat, if need be. He could not allow for simple things such as travel to ruin his plans.

xXx

_"Kenji, would you go get your father?"_

_"Sure, Mom."_

_Kaoru watched as Kenji's six-year-old form retreated before her eyes, and a wistful sigh escaped her lips. Had she not been in such a... condition... she would have been able to get up herself. Heck, had she not been in this condition, she would still have her slim waist. Kaoru bit back a sigh. She shouldn't have been so vain about these silly things; above all, she was happy about her newfound pregnancy. 'But why in hell am I so freakin' fat?' she often wondered. Had this been a normal pregnancy, she would have only been _fat_. But this... Kami, she felt like she was carrying two or three kids instead of one. And judging by Kenshin's secretive smiles, his mysterious replies as she questioned him about it... she was correct. The thing she hated most about pregnancy was that she didn't know much about the child itself. Kenshin knew more than she did. And he was the _father.

_"Kaoru?" Kenshin asked as he rounded the corner, worry painted on his features. Kaoru suppressed another sigh. Always worrying so much, he was. She was pregnant, not an invalid. She had told him this hundreds of times, but still he dared to look worried before her. She bit her lip to refrain from calling him an idiot unconditionally. _

_"Would you take Kenji to the market? It's just..." she gestured to her swollen belly, a blush coloring her features. "...I don't think I'm quite capable. My feet are killing me and my back feels like it's going to snap." Kenshin nodded obediently, turning to leave; then, upon seeing Kaoru twist to massage a foot uncomfortably, took a seat next to her for a moment. _

_"Need a lap?" he offered, and she gladly positioned herself on her side to allow her head some rest. She inhaled deeply, letting it out in a more contented sigh; Kenshin chuckled lightly. "You act like you can do everything by yourself, but it's obvious that you like this treatment."_

_"You can't blame me," she murmured, eyes closed. "You've been on my lap plenty of times." Upon seeing his eyes take on a mischevious glint, she stalled the inevitable comment about him having been other places on her by pursing her lips. "Not while Kenji's near, Kenshin." Kenshin adopted his usual smile, the comment dying on his tongue. The two were silent for a moment, both enjoying each other's company; then Kaoru shifted, once again pursing her lips and letting out a small curse. _

_"What is it?" Kenshin asked, the worried look once again on his face. Kaoru bit back a laugh._

_"S'kicking again," she mumbled. "It's worse than when I was pregnant with Kenji." Kenshin, having known of his son's notorious fame for his pre-birth kicking, grinned broadly. He ran a gentle hand over his wife's belly._

_"Of course it would be worse," he said teasingly. "Power comes in numbers." Then, before Kaoru could react to his words, he gently removed her from his lap and stood. "I'll take Kenji to the market, then," he said as he retreated. _

_"Kenshin!" Kaoru barely managed to snap before he vanished. She suppressed another curse. Stubborn! This nearly confirmed it; she was having more than one child. She sighed, leaning back against a pillar supporting the roof and rubbing her belly. _

_As Kaoru watched Kenshin and Kenji walk down the street, she felt a smile tilt her lips upwards; standing unexpectantly and leaning against the pillar for support, she shouted._

_"See you guys! Love you!" She knew she sounded very true to her Tanuki-side, but she could have cared less. The smile she received from both husband and son, accompanied by the three precious words Kenshin mouthed towards her as he waved, were worth it. Kaoru mouthed back the same words, and Kenshin smiled. His smiles were so common, yet certain ones carried somewhat of a glow to them; Kaoru marveled at the radiance of this one. Then she blushed lightly, realizing what she had said. It was strange... she had been married to him for years now, and the mere reassurances of his love still caused her to blush. _

_'If only things could stay like this,' she mused as she went back to rubbing her stomach absentmindedly. 'Not forever, but... just long enough.'_

Kaoru's eyes snapped open and she moaned, placing a hand on her head. A dream... a memory, more like. Dreams were rarely so detailed, so thorough. The moments such as the one she had just re-experienced were the ones she treasured the most. Kaoru absently rubbed her stomach - which was now considerably flatter than it had been in the dream - and sighed wistfully. Set aside the fact that she currently had a monstrous headache, she was perfectly content.

Then it hit her.

Kaoru sat up, ignoring the protest her body gave her, and glanced around. Someone had retired her to the futon - Kenshin, most likely - which was a blessing, actually. Sleeping while sitting would have been a hassle. Kaoru staggered to her feet and slid open the door, neglecting to put on anything to enhance the warmth of her sleeping robe. After rounding the house, she felt her stomach sink considerably; nobody was there, save for Ai and Shinta, who had also been retired to their respective rooms. She knew that Kenji was gone. Feeling her gut wrench at the thought of her baby boy, who was now quite grown up, leaving the dojo.

When would he come back? When he felt like it? That was hardly a satisfactory answer. Kaoru bit her lip in an attempt to keep back her growing sadness; allowing herself to be miserable would definitely scare Ai and Shinta. And Kenshin... where was he? Kaoru felt another wrench within her as the worry accompanying his absence returned. No matter how many times he told her, no matter how many times he tried to reassure her, Kaoru was always nervous when she didn't know of his exact location. She knew that she was being a worrywart, but she couldn't help it.

"Kenshin?" she spoke silently, so as not to wake her children, but loudly enough so that her husband would pick up her voice. Kenshin had amazing hearing. "Kenshin? Kenshin!" Kaoru rounded the corner, somewhat frantic with worry, and slammed into her husband. Kaoru let out a half sigh, half yelp as she made contact, then stepped back.

"K-Kenshin Himura!" she croaked in an attempt to berate him. "Where were you? I was... I was..." she fell silent. Her eyes darted in the direction of Kenji's room, and Kenshin's eyes took on an understanding appearance. When Kaoru spoke, her voice was somewhat garbled by held-back tears. "Kenji..."

Kenshin did not hesitate to wrap his wife in an embrace. His own sadness matched her's, but he held no doubts over their son; Kenji would return, but he would not return anytime soon. Kenshin did not disclose this information to Kaoru for fear of hurting her, but she already understood. It seemed that she had been pondering this for some time.

"He's not coming back soon, is he," it was more of a statement than a question, and regretfully, Kenshin nodded. Kaoru buried her nose in his shoulder, letting out a shuddering sob. Kenshin offered a series of murmuring assurances in return.

"But he will come back," Kenshin said softly. He felt Kaoru nod against him and loosened the embrace, recognizing Shinta's ki dashing down the hall in their direction. Kaoru protested lightly, but when the eleven-year-old terror zoomed past them, she mirrored his understanding expression. Shinta, whenever he found his parents hugging or doing anything as such, would make disgusted noises. It was a rebellious age, they both knew but still... Kenshin let out an irritated sigh.

_"_I guess you're right," Kaoru murmured to back up her nod. She tried to work a nervous smile onto her features, but failed horribly. "It's just... I hate it when people leave..." She bit her lip again, forcing back her emotions. She hated being such a crybaby; she thought she would have grown out of such things by now. Thoughts of Ai and Shinta when they were in their late teens flooded her mind... they were replaced by thoughts of nothingness. "What if the twins...?" Understanding her unspoken question, Kenshin placed a calming hand on her shoulder. He squeezed it lightly; a genuine smile graced Kaoru's features. "I'm sorry," she murmured. "I'm being silly."

"It's natural to worry," he replied, his smile mirroring her's. He could not afford to be sad; such things spread like diseases. Neither parent knew how the others were taking it so far. Shinta had shown no sign of caring so far, but he had only run by them... emotions were not easily captured in moments such as those. Reactions would also be caused outside their family. Sanosuke, Megumi, Yahiko, Tsubame, (even) Shinya, Ayame, Suzume, and so many more... Kenji had lived all his life so far in Tokyo, and everybody knew him. Kenshin felt a pang of guilt; Kaoru's reputation had never been the best (besides among good friends) when it came to the people of Tokyo. Kihei and Gohei were merely the beginning. When Kenshin had started living in Kaoru's home, the gossipers had gone wild, calling her many things that he wished not to name. If word got out that Kenji had left, had become a wanderer like his father before him... Kenshin didn't want to even begin fathoming the possibilities. This was something else he kept from his wife, who, thankfully, did not realize this yet.

"Ai-chan? Shinta?" Kaoru suddenly half-yelled, walking past Kenshin. Shinta was probably propelling from the roofs by now... Ai was probably sleeping. But when Kaoru slid the door open, she found her daughter staring at the futon, her small fists clenching bunches of fabric and shaking violently. Kaoru quickened her pace and knelt beside her daughter. "Ai-chan?" Ai looked up to her mother, and one could see faint traces of tear-marks on her cheeks.

"K-Kenji left, Mother," she murmured shakily. "H-he's gone." Something of a nervous laugh escaped her throat, followed by dry sobs. Ai had run out of tears last night, it seemed. Kaoru immediately thought of when Kenshin had left for Kyoto, and embraced her child lovingly, stroking her hair. Ai shook, further worrying her mother; if she were equal in Kaoru's loathing for loneliness, something more dramatic may have followed.

"Don't worry," Kaoru whispered into her daughter's hair, battling back her own emotions. "He will come back." Ai looked up to her mother, her wide violet eyes moist with new tears. Her eyes spoke the question for her; Kaoru nodded, squeezing her daughter reassuringly. Ai nodded, slightly reassured.

The other people who knew Kenji reacted in a manner very much like Ai's. Tsubame was sad, while Yahiko put up a front of indifference; the facade was easily seen through. Shinya merely looked enraged, although he held it back with amazing control. Kaoru observed the emotions in his eyes, watching them go from his hands to his mother, and she understood. The boy wanted nothing more than to go after Kenji. What drove him evaded Kaoru; it might have been the will to prove his own strength, or he merely wanted his rival back. But his mother's pregnancy held him back. Kaoru found herself admiring the boy.

Ayame and Suzume, both having been infinitely fond of Kenji, were tearstricken at the news. Kaoru did her best to comfort them, succeeding partially. She found her own sadness resurfacing as she watched the girl's hold back their tears. _'They really do love him,' _she observed sadly. Much to her chagrin, she found herself doubting any reciprocation from Kenji. He was so cold, so passive about things like emotions... something that made him understand such things had to have been gained through much toil. Kaoru did not tell the girls this for fear of making their misery all the greater.

Sano, upon receiving the news, merely sniffed indignantly. Megumi whacked him for that. The doctor herself was quite shocked over hearing the news, but was nowhere close to tears. She was too strong for that, and after being told, she admitted that she had felt he would do such a thing. Kaoru left Megumi's temporary home in somewhat of a huff. She would never pull one over on that woman. _'At least I won, in the end,' _she thought scathingly, then shook her head. What kind of wife was she? Kaoru sighed.

Kenji... where was he now? On a boat? On his way to a nearby town... Yokohama, perhaps? Kaoru suppressed another sigh, her motherly thoughts going wild. _'Did he pack an extra gi? What if he doesn't have enough food with him? Gah..._' She caught herself, gasping lightly. She was... mothering him. Not that it was such a horrible thing - he was her _son,_ after all, and if she were to coddle anyone it would be one of her children - but Kenji was seventeen. He didn't need coddling. Kaoru's mind flashed to Kenji at the age of five, looking up at her with wide, blue eyes... she smiled, feeling her eyes tear up again. In his earlier years, he hadn't objected to such things... in fact, the boy had been very happy to be mothered. It was only until he had reached the age expected for rebellion that he had protested, mildly so. He had always been so nervous about making his mother sad. Even afterwards, the boy had taken an interest in the attention given to him that was a bit... much. Even when being compared with Shinya, who (when seen through the eyes of an experienced swordsman) was nowhere near Kenji's level of skill, Kenji had allowed the comparison to irritate him.

Kenji was cynical. That much had been obvious, although the boy had tried to hide it from his parents. There were often slips of the tongue; every once in a while, Kaoru had heard him muttering sharp comments under his breath. He was also slightly self-centered, although this characteristic merely came from his love for the attention he received. On the outside, the boy kept up a facade of passiveness, remaining cold and indifferent to those around him.

_'Kenji...' _Kaoru's hand traveled to her chest, where she gripped the material of her kimono tightly. Her son was gone. She could elaborate all she wanted, she could pretend that she wasn't worried, but the facts were simple. Kenji was gone, and he wasn't coming back for quite a while. The wife of the Himuras let out a small sigh as her throat tightened. She gazed upwards, taking in the dark clouds with passiveness.

_'It's going to rain,' _she mused dully, leaving the doorstep of Sano's house and quickening her pace. Even as she walked, her ears were filled with the sounds of raindrops hitting the trees above; then water pelted her in small droplets. Normally, Kaoru would have been worried about the condition of her kimono, but she found that her mind was on far more important things.

Despite the fact that she was walking rather quickly, it seemed like an eternity before Kaoru finally reached the dojo; when she arrived at the gate, fumbling at the door handle, she found Kenshin waiting for her. Her husband looked at her with soft, sad violet eyes. Words were unneeded as Kaoru wrapped herself in her husband's embrace, letting herself be further soaked by the weather. She was thankful for it; that way, no one would see the teardrops sliding down her cheeks.

"Were are Ai and Shinta?"

"They're asleep," Kenshin replied quietly, burying his nose into her shoulder. Kaoru returned the favor by sliding her fingers through his hair, marveling not only on its texture and color (she found that it was very fascinating), but on its owner's unspoken assurance. Kaoru found her body shaking almost uncontrolablly; letting a sob escape her throat in an attempt to lessen the pain it was giving her, she tightened the embrace.

"I-I'm sorry," she murmured, making a valiant attempt to hold back her tears. "I sh-shouldn't cry... I'm sorry..." Kaoru was surprised when Kenshin merely chuckled and drew her away, watching her tears with an expression that did not match the noise he made.

"That doesn't sound like the Himura Kaoru I know," he said gently, bringing his hand under her chin and lifting her face just so. Both of their mouths lifted in a smile before joining; it was not a brief kiss like the ones they had done in front of their children (if only for the sake of embarrassing them), but long and passionate. The rain was soon forgotten, as the two were embraced in eachother's warmth. It was only when Kaoru's lungs burned for air - she was quite sure that Kenshin could have gone on forever - that she pulled away reluctantly. Despite the fact that the two had exchanged more than a simple kiss in their marriage together, she found herself blushing.

"Y-you haven't kissed like that in a while," she mumbled, bringing her hand unconsciously up to her lips. Kenshin merely grinned mischeviously and tugged on her kimono sleeve. Upon catching the look in his eyes, Kaoru's blush deepened, but she indulged the both of them with a smile.

"Let's go inside," Kenshin offered, pulling her along gently but firmly. "I don't want you to get sick." He paused, recognizing Kaoru's saddened look as her thoughts once again drifted off to their son. Once the both of them were safely back in their room, he embraced her once again, cherishing her warmth. "Kaoru," he breathed, "please. Don't torture yourself over the inevitable." He knew his words, upon further inspection, sounded cold. But it was the truth; Kenji would have left. They had all known this for a long time. Kaoru was about to utter another apology, but he silenced her with another kiss. She trembled, then returned it; once the need for air arose again, his wife pulled away.

"D-dammit, Kenshin," she muttered. "You really should do that more often... then I'll get used to it." Kenshin couldn't help the chuckle; when they had been newlyweds, such kisses had been common. It was only after they had Ai and Shinta that the passion dropped slightly (although Kenshin blamed this entirely on Shinta).

Finding the atmosphere a bit too melancholy for his liking, Kenshin offered another devious grin. He drew Kaoru closer (if such a thing were possible) and repeated the kiss once more. Had it not been so dark, he could've seen her beet-red face, but he was quite sure that she enjoyed it just as much as she did.

"I really should, shouldn't I?" he whispered.

"Yes," she said. Her tone now matched his in mischievousness. Much to her surprise, Kenshin picked her up - this was another action he had neglected to do for some time, and he found he rather enjoyed it - and placed her in his lap as he sat on the futon.

"Then I will."

xXx

"Excuse me, sir, but do you know the times for the passenger boats?"

"Hhmmn? Oh, sure. The fist boat leaves at noon, then the next at dusk. They leave once a month... the first boat left today. The cargo boats leave every other week."

"Thank you."

Kenji suppressed a sigh as he set down his napsack, allowing himself some time to merely sit and take a little break from the walking. It was nothing rigorous, nowhere near tiring, but Kenji found the seat a blessing all the same. He had missed the first boat. Depending on how much tickets were worth, he would most likely miss the second boat too. The young Himura did not like the idea of sneaking his way onto a boat filled with other people, either. If he couldn't get the needed money to pay for a ticket by dusk, he would wait until the cargo boats were prepared to leave. Then he would either get a job loading the cargo, or he would sneak aboard. Either sounded fine.

He surveyed his reflection in a puddle on the road with distaste; getting a job loading a boat would be difficult. He already looked enough like a young woman, courtesy of his father. Hadn't Kaoru's side of the family given men strong figures? Why hadn't he inherited _that _from her? If the men running the cargo ship thought he wouldn't be capable enough, they wouldn't hire him. He would have to show them his strength. The young Himura straightened his posture as he strode towards the boats, catching site of the men as they watched his nearly-feminine form approach them.

"Excuse me," he said, desperate to keep his voice as deep as it always was. "How much do tickets for the passenger boat cost?"

Kenji left the docks feeling irritated, embarrassed, and at a loss for what to do. The first thing the (obviously) drunk men at the dock had told him was the price of the tickets, which were far too much for him to afford. A more kindly young man working at the docks had provided him with further information: the next cargo ship was leaving in two days. Unfortunately, most workers had already been selected, but there were a few more open positions. These positions were reserved for men of great girth, however. Men who were capable when it came to lifting great weights. Kenji felt his stomach sink. His strength, as it had been with both his mother and father, rested in his speed and cunning with a blade. His slight form helped with those things, but in matters where pure strength was valued, he was unneeded. Afterwards, the drunken men at the docks had "chased" him away (although Kenji had merely walked away in the end - the men had declared that he was a coward who had run), threatening to turn him into the police for violating the swords ban. Kenji felt the indignation nagging at him. Had he merely the will to do so, he could have slammed his sakabatou over their heads a few times. _That _would have shown them.

The kindly, sensible young man (who had identified himself as Ikiro) had offered him a deal. Kenji was told that if he came to the docks for the next two days and helped out - although what he was told to help out with was not yet known - Ikiro would recommend him to the captain of the ship. Kenji would also receive a small wage, depending on his performance. Being that it was the best he could hope for, the young Himura thankfully accepted this proposition. Ikiro had then told him of a cheap inn nearby that would accommodate him. Although Kenji did not have enough money for a ticket to the passenger ship, he did have enough with him to cheaply accommodate him. It was the most he could hope for.

As Kenji neared the inn, he mentally thanked Ikiro. It was, as the young man had promised, cheap... but it was not the type of building that had dirt rubbed all over it. Where Kenji had been expecting to find many men, drunk and sleazy, he only found a few... which was quite a relief. The only thing that stopped him from having men follow him was his lack of womanly parts on the upper torso. A few men were slightly hard of sight, he supposed, as a few catcalls sounded at his retreating figure. Kenji suppressed the urge to remove the sakabatou from his waist and break every man's right arm with it.

The room was pleasantly cheap. "Pleasantly" was used for more than one reason: the young Himura knew that he would be able to afford a few more meals, and the room was not a complete dump. He refused to acknowledge the view of less... humble... inns he received upon looking out the window of his room. It was nothing he couldn't adjust for. Nonetheless, the sight of disgusting men and shameless women left Kenji wondering why people bothered with them. They were the lesser of the human population. They were worthless.

Kenji knew that he had a cold outlook that could not be forgiven, but he refused to modify it in any way. There was no point; one could not naturally repress their being without a long time of working at it, and Kenji was not willing to sacrifice that time.

As night fell, Kenji felt hunger gnawing at him. The young man politely asked the innkeeper for directions to a restaurant of any sort; he received a rude set of directions in return, but they were directions nonetheless. Kenji had locked up his room and left the inn in search of these places when he stiffened. He barely realized the reason when he looked to his side to find a young woman leaning on it, exhausted and almost too light to actually register. Kenji was about to shove her off, to tell her to find another man to pleasure her, but it seemed that she was just realizing her situation. Kenji's eyes widened just slightly as recognition hit him... the girl from yesterday? Irritation pricked at him.

But Kenji realized, as he met the young woman's eyes, that this was not the girl he had met yesterday. This one was notably skinnier, obviously too light for her own good. Her skin was terribly pale, whereas the girl from before had been pretty normal - fair, but not as pale as this. Despite these differences, she bore a remarkable resemblance to the young woman. Her eyes were blue, although their shade was duller, as if the life had left them years ago. Her hair was the same shade of black-brown that the young woman... no, Chizuru... had sported.

"I'm... sorry," she managed, staggering upwards. Kenji noted her terrible health. She seemed airy, exhausted; a gust of wind would blow her away. "I didn't mean to... to bump into you..." She inhaled deeply, then exhaled, as if trying to regain her regular breathing patterns. Judging from how light she had been on him earlier, she had not been running very fast in the first place. "I'm lost..."

"Ah," Kenji finally uttered. "This is the Yabi no Eikyuu... it's an inn." Kenji mentally noted on the stupidity of the name. The "Night Beauty of Eternity" should have been suited for a place of higher class. Upon hearing the name of the inn, the girl nodded shakily.

"Th-... thank you," she finally croaked. Her health seemed to be decreasing by the moment. Kenji was about to excuse himself when he realized that she was leaning against him more than anything; he had been supporting her all that time, and he had failed to notice it. He unsteadily tried to support her and leave, but he found that he could do no such thing without completely allowing her to collapse.

"Ma'am," he began uneasily. He wasn't quite sure how to handle the situation. "You're not well, are you?"

"I-I'm fine," she said quickly. She was a horrible liar. "I... I can't stop. I have to find my..." Before she could finish the sentence, however, she collapsed. Kenji knew that people were watching. He knew that people were developing suspicious thoughts about the young man - who, conveniently, had a sword - and the young woman who had just collapsed. Things would go downhill if he didn't adjust to the situation.

"What's your name?" he finally questioned, dropping all the formalities and becoming brusque in his efforts to get rid of her. Her lips moved slightly; no sound came from them. Kenji rolled his eyes. If she were at least able to supply a name, he would be able to find her family.

"Rai... Raikoji... Raikoji Mana," she finally managed. The air left her throat in guttural gasps. Kenji lifted her gently - a part of him marveled at how light she was, while another screamed at her for being so idiotic - and took her back into the inn. The few eyes that had been watching lingered, anticipating many reasons for the boy's actions. None of these reasons, unfortunately, were true.

"Excuse me," Kenji said as he reached the desk, the young woman in his arms. The innkeeper regarded the situation with knowing eyes. Kenji felt like poking those eyes out, but he held his temper. "Is there a Raikoji family living in Yokohama?"

"Raikoji?" he blinked. "S'not a common last name... nope, never heard of it." Kenji inwardly groaned, and the innkeeper sneered. "What, was that the name she gave you? She's a common whore. It's an alias."

"I didn't bring her here for any pleasure reasons," Kenji bit out fiercely. The man merely sneered, his look telling him that he believed nothing of what the young Himura spoke.

"What's her first name?" the man asked. "The aliases are usually limited to last names... if she's good, I'll remember it. But judging from the look of her..." he eyed the limp girl as a man would eye a horse. "...you got ripped off." Once again, Kenji bit back his temper. He was in no mood to be thought of as a man who would pick up women off the street like this. He was a young man, trying to live in the Meiji era. Weren't things like whores looked down upon in the new era? Or was it all just a farce? Judging by the look he was getting from the innkeeper, it was.

"...Oi. First name." This time the request was a mere statement, uncontrolled and irritable. Kenji snapped to attention.

"Mana-san," he said simply. He hoped for some sort of reaction from the girl; he had no such luck. It took only a moment for the innkeeper to ponder this, then he shook his head.

"Nope. Never heard of her."

"Do you have any spare rooms?" Because he had no means of knowing where she came from, Kenji resorted to letting her stay in the inn for the night. He withheld the urge to drop the young lady on the floor; he barely had enough money for himself, let along some tagalong.

"We're full for the night," the reply was mockingly innocent. The innkeeper rose a bushy eyebrow, leaning forward on the counter. Kenji took this time to mentally note how fat he actually was. Sumos weren't out of style or anything, were they? This man seemed to have a good shot at something like that. Before he was allowed to mentally mock the man any further, he continued, "Why not keep her in your room? It's a little hard to get your pleasure when you're in separate rooms."

"I didn't bring her here for pleasure," Kenji bit out, forgetting to disguise the roll of his eyes. "If she's a whore, I can dump her off at the nearest brothel. I really don't care." At this, the innkeeper rose his hands almost pleadingly. Kenji's tone _had _been bordering on threatening.

"Okay, okay! Sheesh, you're pretty touchy, aren't you? Look, there aren't many brothels around here. You find more of those in big towns, even though they're losing popularity. Pity, huh? Ah," the man, realizing that Kenji was becoming irritable with his rambling, jumped back to the subject at hand. "There aren't any vacant rooms. Some old farts reserved a ton of 'em a while ago. But I won't charge you for keeping two in your room, seeing as it's a one-person setup. And don't worry..." he winked deviously, still completely under the belief that Kenji had brought her for unproper reasons. "I won't tell a soul."

Biting back the urge to merely drop the girl on the counter and let the fat man have her, Kenji nodded. Struggling a bit, he adjusted the young woman so that she was hanging over his shoulder and - rather awkwardly, as he was being eyed with disgust and sneers as he walked by other people - slid the door to his room open. Letting out an irritated sigh, the young man kicked the futon from the corner and managed to unroll it. He set the woman down - not gently, but not dropping her - and covered her up. Judging from her weakness earlier, accompanied with a lack of fever, Kenji guessed that she was merely starving.

_'Takeout it is, then,' _he thought ruefully as he slid the door closed behind him, leaving the girl alone in the darkness.

xXx

Kenji's eyes widened slightly as the figure a few feet away from him stirred. He hadn't expected her to wake up for some time now.

"Wh... where am I?" she croaked, making an attempt to rub her eyes. She was too weak to lift her hand. Kenji rose an eyebrow; the covers of the futon were too heavy for her. This girl was either starving or just terribly out of shape. The young Himura didn't doubt either of these options.

"The inn," he said simply, placing his bowl on the floor and reaching for hers. She was too weak to feed herself, he guessed; he would feed her, then. Kenji mentally rolled his eyes as the innkeeper's face flashed into his mind, teasing him and jeering at him to give her mouth-to-mouth. As if. "I'm going to feed you," he said as he leaned over her, carefully and controllingly offering her small bits of the soup ingredients. Even her jaw was sluggish as she attempted to swallow; Kenji helped her by hesitantly rubbing her jaw. After what seemed like an eternity, he gingerly tilted the bowl to allow her to drink the remaining soup. After she labored to swallow for what seemed like another eternity, she sighed, relaxing.

"You should stop picking up men for a while," Kenji said tartly. "You're in no condition to walk, let alone give a guy a good time." He detected the faintest wrinkle on her forehead. Her eyes narrowed just slightly, but all the same, he found himself thinking of the young woman he had run into the day before.

"I'm not a whore," she murmured, closing her eyes again. The resemblance was gone. Kenji decided to drop the subject altogether.

"I'm staying in Yokohama for two more days," he said simply. "After that, you're on your own. And you won't have anything more than takeout; I'm not hiring any doctors to help you. I can barely make it by on my own."

Silence followed his statement; Kenji was sure that he had told her enough to keep her away from him. Instead, he saw the girl's mouth quirk into a smile. Her pale lips opened, and closed, and Kenji knew that she had just thanked him. She lacked the strength to put any sound behind her words, but her message had gotten across.

Feeling slightly aggravated, the young Himura turned to the corner and sat. There was no way he would share the futon; the innkeeper, if he were to see this, would go on a gossiping-spree.

_'Besides,' _he noted, shifting just slightly and holding the sakabatou close, _'it's not so bad.'_

_to be continued..._

_A/N: Being that I'm a kid, I don't know much about how married couples act around eachother. My parents are pretty indifferent towards eachother, but to make Kenshin and Kaoru that way would be boring... and sad. There's not enough fluff in the series! So yes, my writing on them may seem a little over-affectionate (and then again, it may not) but I don't have much experience on what it's like to be married. So there._

_Raikoji Mana is my own character, but the size of her part may surprise you. For all the people that are screaming, "OMGOMGOMG WAFF ahead!", I'm sorry, but you're probably a little off. :3 I'm trying to keep my own characters from having too much of an effect on the real ones._

_This story might go up a rating... ugh. Due to the fact that I have problems writing little things like kisses, don't expect all that much... limish stuff. There will only be references to adult themes, but none of it will be entirely direct. _


	4. Predator and Prey

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin.**

Kenji awoke to find Mana struggling to rise from her futon. Letting out a small sigh of irritation, the young Himura stood and gently but firmly pressed her back down. He did not disguise the rolling of his eyes.

"A night's rest didn't help at all," he muttered. "Stay in the futon. Geez," he said as he stood and made his way to the sakabatou that lay next to the wall, "you're so stupid."

"Shut up," she muttered darkly. Kenji's eyes widened slightly at her sudden defiance. Although she was still considerably weak, her will had strengthened during the night. That defiance soon died as she attempted to lift herself up again, muttering apologies. Kenji was about to shove her down this time, but she held up a weak hand, stalling his actions. Mana shakily pushed the covers from her weak frame and let out a small gasp as she made her way to her feet. Kenji watched with a mixture of passiveness and irritation as she stumbled to the door, leaning against it for support. After gasping a few times, she glanced back over to Kenji. "Thank you for helping me last night," she croaked. "I'm fine. Really." Kenji merely rolled his eyes in return.

"You're a horrible liar," he snapped as he stalked over to the door and slid it open quickly, ignoring her cry of surprise as she staggered, her means of support gone. "You're taking my kindness for granted. But then again, if you leave now, I won't have to worry about my temporary reputation around this dump." Then he placed a hand in the small of her back, shoving her forward. Mana toppled (as Kenji had easily predicted) and the young Himura grabbed the back of her kimono, lifting her up with ease. He leaned to meet her eyes - he didn't have to go down far, being as he was already short - and glared steadily. "You won't stay long. But you're still weak, and you're of no use to me that way."

The suspicion in her eyes was evident. Kenji allowed a sneer to curl his lip.

"Don't flatter yourself," he merely said as he hauled her upright and firmly led her back to the futon, allowing gravity to pull her into it. The unspoken suspicion she regarded him with seemed to vanish. "If I were that kind of man, I would have done something with you last night."

"That kind... of man?" she murmured. Kenji caught the faintest trace of her own sneer forming on her face. "You... you don't look any older than a boy." Kenji's brow furrowed as he once again recognized the defiance he had seen in the young woman he had bumped into two days ago. The words were also a blow to his pride, but he swallowed it, desperate not to let the seemingly invalid girl's words unnerve him. Before he was allowed to interject, her pale lips opened once again. "I... I need to go," she murmured. "I need to find..." But once again, she trailed off. Her eyes, which had already been half-closed, fluttered. Kenji bent down, checking her pulse to make sure she was still fine; the steady rise and fall of her chest made him aware of the fact that she was still living.

"I'm off," he told her, just in case she was still able to register the words he spoke. He closed the door firmly behind him, but made no move to restrict any means of opening it. He really didn't care if she decided to leave or not; he doubted that she would be able to do so if she wanted to. If she did, however, that was less money coming out of his pocket. Kenji won with either decision. As soon as the young man let the thought slip past his brain, he stopped for a moment. What would he gain by allowing her to stay for a few days? Surely not what the innkeeper had been implying the night before, and surely not manuel labor.

Mentally rolling his eyes once again, Kenji walked briskly down the hall. If he wanted that trip to Kyoto, he would need to keep his end of the deal he had made with Ikiro-san.

xXx

"Ikiro-san," Kenji called out softly as he reached the docks. It was difficult to spot the common black hair among the crowd of Japanese men. Even Kenji's red-brown hair was easy enough to see; delving into his memory, he pulled the man's face to his mind. Small brown eyes, a youthful enough face, and shaggy black hair. Once again, Kenji scanned the crowd, and he felt a sigh rise within him. If the man didn't hear him first, finding him would be difficult. "Ikiro-san."

Thankfully, the man dislodged himself from the others, and as he drew nearer, Kenji's remembrance became all the more clear. A wave of relief crashed over him and he stepped forward, mentally sharpening his abilities and more than willing to demonstrate his prowess. Upon catching sight of Kenji's tense frame and narrowed eyes, Ikiro let out a short laugh; the young Himura felt his temper rise. He bit back the anger with surprising control.

"Loosen up, kid," Ikiro advised, grinning smugly. Kenji rose a brow quizzically; _this _had been the kindhearted man he had met the day before? As far as Kenji could tell, he was mischeivious to the point of aggravating. The innkeeper's sneering face flashed into his memory, and Kenji bit back a grunt of irritation. But before he was allowed to make this change known, the flicker of deviousness was gone and the kindhearted Ikiro, the man who had seemed humble and less easygoing earlier, returned. Kenji restrained himself from asking any questions. "You're just in time; a small boat's coming into the harbor with some cargo as we speak. Now," he closed his eyes, yet the smile remained, "you'll be working with me, seeing as you're... well, a little small." The young man grimaced slightly, but said nothing. "We'll get our pay by the end of the day."

Kenji did not respond; instead, finding that he could put no useful words into a sentence, he glanced out in the direction of the harbor. The boat in question was drawing nearer as the silence drew on. The murmurs of the other men became groans as a whistle sounded, indicating that they were to begin; Kenji found himself next to Ikiro as they hefted a wooden crate from the boat, dragged it down to the docks, and began looking through the contents. Ikiro rose an eyebrow as he caught Kenji staring in confusion at the actions of the others.

"Before we load them," he explained as he pried the top from the crate, then proceeded to fish out a beautiful piece of fabric, "we give them the once-over to make sure nobody will get faulty cloth." He then glanced at it, his eyes gleaming with admiration for the silken fabric - Kenji found himself staring, too, and quickly looked back to the box - then folded it gently and placed it back in. Kenji did as the other man did (but not without reluctance, for worry of ruining the fabric), determined to pick it up quickly. He had always been good at that.

Hours passed. As Kenji lifted another box and made his way down the plank connecting the first boat to the docks, he felt his breath come out in short huffs. The fabric itself was not heavy, but when firmly pressed together and multiplied, it (along with the weight of the crate it was in) lost the lightness it was valued for. It was only when they searched through each and every kimono, placing them back with careful hands that would belong to no ordinary sailors, that the clothes showed their true qualities. Kenji found himself thinking of his mother's reactions to the kimonos; no doubt, she would squeal as if she were still a child and instantly buy them. Kaoru had an affinity for pretty clothes like these.

Another whistle sounded and the men exchanged sighs, folding up the kimonos and placing them back in their boxes almost too gently. Kenji rose an eyebrow suspiciously but nonetheless did as they did, stretching his arms afterwards and letting out a relieved sigh. Ikiro grinned smugly; the more arrogant side to him, the side that had been barely concealed earlier, came through.

"Ever worked a day in your life, kid?" he grinned. Kenji merely glanced at him; it seemed strange that such a kind person could so easily change into a sneering, smug goonlike figure. The young Himura put the contradiction into his mind for later inspection. Taking his silence as an attempt to ignore him, Ikiro continued. "Don't worry, it's only for a few more days. Beautiful, huh?" he asked as he traced Kenji's gaze to the crate. "'Tis the season and all... so we're working to get the best clothing over to Kyoto."

"'The season'?" Kenji questioned, raising a brow.

"Don't you know?" Ikiro sounded dumbfounded. "There's a big festival every year during July in Kyoto. The 'Gion Festival', they call it." Kenji merely listened to the man, his own lips unmoving; he disliked the fact that he was so lacking in knowledge about these things. Once again, Ikiro took the silence the wrong way and continued, "It started way back when during a plague or something... but yeah, it's a popular festival. I myself am planning on going."

As Kenji racked his brains for any further knowledge of the festival, a memory snagged in his mind; a memory of his childhood, when Kenshin and Kaoru had left him in the care of Tae (who had complained about not having someone to go with herself) to go to Kyoto for a while. After they had returned, they had elaborately explained a huge festival that had taken place there. Satisfied with the fact that he had remembered the festival at all, he took Ikiro's words with a nod.

The lunch break ended far too quickly, and the group was soon back to looking through kimonos. Kenji's eyes narrowed as he caught Ikiro checking the edge of a sleeve; finding the young man's gaze on him, Ikiro hastily folded the kimono and placed it back in the box. As Kenji pulled a purple garment from the box, his hands wandered to the edges of the sleeves; and, as his fingers detected rough edges, his eyes narrowed. Deft fingers quickly pulled at the torn edge, and both Kenji and Ikiro's eyes widened as a fine, white powder fell from the hole.

Kenji stared at Ikiro angrily. The kimono's original value was forgotten as he bunched it up in his fist, stalking over to the other man and shoving it up to his nose. He didn't want to cause a scene - any other sailors probably already knew of the actual item they were helping to transport, or they didn't know at all and it was best left that way.

"Oh, yes," he nearly purred as he stroked the sleeve. "These are _very _valuable. Opium is hard to get nowadays." Kenji's free hand flew to the sakabatou at his waist; realizing his intent but failing to understand that the sword was a reverse-bladed one, Ikiro held up his hands guiltily. His eyes were wide with fear.

"H-hey! Don't jump to conclusions! How was I supposed to know--" he was cut off as Kenji slammed the hilt of the sakabatou into his chin. As Ikiro fell back, the sheathed end of the weapon spun and caught him in the ribs, knocking the wind from him. The young Himura merely sneered and turned, returning the sheathed weapon back to its place by his side. His victim staggered to his feet, spitting out a broken tooth and blood after rubbing his chin. Kenji gave a soft sigh as he realized what his temper had done; the opposite of what he had wanted, creating a scene. Other sailors were already drawing near, eyeing him suspiciously and readying themselves. Kenji indulged himself with a sneer.

"Opium is illegal," he said simply. "If I felt so inclined, I could report you to the police. I wouldn't need to worry about any money problems for a while after, don't you think?" Ikiro's eyes widened, then narrowed as he spoke; others who had heard stared at him in shock. Kenji enjoyed watching them squirm. Then he rolled his eyes, giving a sigh. "But then again, I would be exposing myself as someone who's associated with you." He turned, tucking his hands into the sleeve of his gi, and began leaving the scene.

"Wait a minute, kid!" Ikiro demanded. Whether or not sneering was his usual attitude, it did not matter; his face was contorted in rage. The fall had done more damage to his pride than it had his body. "Where the hell do you think you're going? Off to tell the--"

"I said I wouldn't contact the police," Kenji interrupted in a drawl. "You have nothing to worry about from me. Besides," Ikiro's eyes widened as a sneer curled Kenji's lip, "the only real fools are those who buy the opium themselves. It's those people who will suffer." The last statement was completely without sorrow; Kenji said it as if it were a mere fact, a fact to laugh at.

"If anyone should tell on anybody," Ikiro retorted, "it's us. Don't you understand that swords are banned?" Kenji gave him no reply but another sneer, and the other man's face twisted angrily. "Stupid kid."

"Don't you think it's stupid, letting him walk away like that?" a burly man questioned, raising an eyebrow. "Kagami won't like it if the opium income vanishes." To this, Ikiro let out a shaky laugh.

"Kagami won't like it, huh?" he said with a forced smile. "Since when did Kagami run the business? He's just the boss's _dog._" With that, he laughed heartily; the others laughed, albeit hesitantly. Ikiro paused in his forced mirth to glance in Kenji's direction. His eyes narrowed as he watched the small figure retreat from sight, and he clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth thoughtfully. _'Besides,' _he thought, rubbing his jaw in rememberence, '_that kid was no ordinary punk. I'm lucky all he did was gimme a blow to the jaw.' _

Unbenknowest to both the workers and the retreating Kenji, the whole ordeal had been watched. The figure was cloaked in black, despite the hot weather, and was hidden away in the shadows of a nearby alley; from beneath the dark hood, a pair of dark green eyes glistened. Slim, pale, calloused hands retreated into the cloak for a moment before drawing out a set of acupuncture needles. As the medical instruments glistened under the few rays of light shining in the alley, the eyes wrinkled at the sides in a smile... or a sneer.

"Kagami, a dog? That wasn't very nice, Ikiro. And what a silly boy you've been, giving the boy your real name! Ah, well," the needles disappeared as the observer turned eyes back on the sailors, "mistakes are mistakes, I guess. Too bad I'm not one to give second chances..."

xXx

It was late; either very late, or very early. Ikiro could not tell, and he did not care to ask. The dizzy state of bliss he was currently in banished any worries of the time. Sake was indeed a blessing, especially after the fiasco at the docks. That boy... what had his name been, again? Ikiro stretched his memory, but could not remember. The incident at the docks had been greatly mellowed down by the numerous cups of sake he had partaken in. They had all departed from the pub, each going their own way, and it was only now that he was beginning to realize the gravity of the situation.

The boy _knew._ And judging from his cocky, arrogant attitude, he wasn't about to let the crime of transporting opium go unpunished. What kind of idiot would? Ikiro sighed loudly as he leaned against the wall of the nearest house, his head reeling from the worries and the sharp contrast of bliss the sake gave him. He would have to be delt with. The boy's skill was unknown, but from the simple move he had made earlier, it was easily seen that it was above average. _'Whoever gets the job of offing him is one unlucky sonofa...'_

Ikiro's thoughts were cut off as a strangled gasp from ahead reached his ears; suddenly becoming aware of the situation, he halted. An associate of his, a tall, burly man called Yubo, had been using the same path as him but had overstepped him. The man had either been surprised by some stray animal, or he had found a pretty young girl to harass in his drunken state; in either case, Ikiro didn't care for the outcome. What unnerved him was the inevitable truth: his assumptions were mere wishes. The young man realized this as a dark, foul-smelling liquid slid through the cracks in the pavement almost hauntily towards him. Ikiro's eyes widened as he recognized the blood and stumbled back, gasps escaping his quivering lips. He didn't want to look to the scene, but his eyes were involuntarily attracted to Yubo's prostrate corpse. He cried out as a small, slim figure brought a foot down on Yubo's unmoving neck, shattering whatever hopes the man had of living. Ikiro winced as he heard a sickening crunch.

"Hello, Ikiro," the figure said simply. There was no hood, exposing the almost feminine face of a young man with deep green eyes and very light, almost white, hair. Ikiro's eyes widened as all effects of the sake abandoned him; he was exposed to the harsh reality of what was happening. A sneer curled the approaching figure's lip as he neared the frightened man. "You've been a very naughty boy. Who was the young man helping you at the docks? Surely not someone working for us."

"I-I..." Ikiro stumbled, "I thought we could use an extra hand with the cargo..."

"Oh? And what did revealing your actual name have to do with any of it?" As Ikiro's blunder was openly acknowledged, the man in question flinched. The sneer remained on the young boy's lips. "No matter. If anything, your actual blunder was resorting to name calling..." As he said this, the older man's mouth fell open. Ikiro's shock gave way to pain as he realized the presence of acupuncture needles flashing through his neck, hitting a precise place and paralyzing his legs; he fell down with a pathetic grunt. The boy drew near, his eyes glittering maliciously. The needles in his hands were gone, replaced by a knife. Before Ikiro was allowed to put his throat to use, he found it slashed open. The pathetic victim gurgled hoarsely, drowning in his own blood, as the knife was withdrawn and buried into his stomach. The agony of death multiplied as the small weapon was wrenched in a certain direction, slashing through his stomach diagonally.

"Even a dog has its fleas, Ikiro," the boy said, a sickening smile on his face. "And some of those fleas need to be _exterminated._"

But Ikiro could not hear the young man's words; his eyes were blank and his breathing, having once been ragged, ceased. The remainder of his blood flooded the cracks in the pavement, and as the attacker flicked the blood from his blade, a stain was imprinted on the surrounding walls. He stepped forward, ignoring the stain of blood on his boots, and withdrew the needles from Ikiro's neck.

"G'bye," he said, smiling broadly. But once again, his words fell of deaf ears.

xXx

"Ai-chan? Shinta?" Kaoru called as she stood, wiping her sweaty hands against her hakama. She had always tried to persuade her children into taking up the Kamiya Kasshin Ryu, but the only one who had done so eagerly had been Kenji. After a little persuasion, Shinta had tried; Ai had followed obediently, although she had never been excited about it. And although both of them were good enough - Shinta showed great promise while Ai was average - neither of them seemed particularly interested in it. Kenshin had no objections to their overall attitude about it, which further served to perturb Kaoru.

_'He must be happy that they don't take an interest in it,' _she often thought with a sigh. _'Maybe staying away from swords suits him, but for me... it's only self-defense! I'm not running a killing dojo!' _Even as the exasperated thougts went through her mind, a smile tilted the corners of her mouth; it had been her dojo being branded with such a name that had led her to meeting Kenshin.

Brushing the thoughts from her mind, Kaoru focused on her goal for the day: getting some family time with her children. She had been terribly busy lately, especially since Kenji had left... Kaoru felt a familiar wrench in her gut as she remembered her son, smiling up at her. It was only after Kenji left that she realized how much help he had been around the dojo. Letting out a small sigh, Kaoru gave up and placed her bokken back on the wall; neither Ai or Shinta were willing to practice swordplay.

"Kaoru?" Kenshin murmured sleepily as he knocked on the side of the door. His hair was tustled, his sleeping gi still on. It was unusual for Kenshin to sleep in, but due to their actions the night before, he had wound up sleeping in. Kaoru could not keep the blush from her face, and instead of attempting to hide it, supported it with a nervous smile. "What are you doing up so early?"

"You mean, 'what am I doing up so late', Kenshin," she said with a laugh as she neared him, brushing a hand through his head and fixing the collar of his yukata neatly. Kenshin returned the gesture with a mischevious grin, entangling his own hands in her hair and bringing her lips to his. The moment, which both Kenshin and Kaoru found perfect, was shattered by a long whistle. Kaoru jerked away from Kenshin and glared at Shinta, who leaning against the door and raising an eyebrow. Kaoru's brow furrowed; since when had he been that kind of kid? Hadn't he been the kind to make puking sounds? Kenshin, also irritated with the fact that the moment had been ruined by their son, let out an exasperated sigh.

"Haven't seen you guys at that for a while," Shinta said, sneering. Kaoru's eyes widened as she imagined Sano in the boy's place, then shook her head. It was all-too-disturbing of a notion.

"Ah, I was looking for you," she said, plastering a sickening smile on and enveloping her son in a death-hug. Amidst his protests and gasps for air, Kaoru continued. "I was thinking we'd have a little family time, you, me, and Ai-chan. Where is she?" Shinta tried to answer - either that, or he was still crying out for mercy - but Kaoru's grip on him garbled the words. Kenshin did not deny himself the smirk. Hugs such as these were often used against Shinta in a manner of revenge.

Kaoru released Shinta, who, gasping for air, fell to the floor. She turned to Kenshin, grinning broadly. Kenshin realized this as an attempt to hide her lingering fears for Kenji, and instead of confronting her with it, he found himself admiring her. It was only when he heard her lingering words did he realize that he had been too preoccupied with her looks to actually register her speaking.

"I was thinking we'd take a break," she said, looking down at the floor and shifting from foot to foot. "Remember the Gion Festival? The one you took me to when Kenji was a child?" Kenshin's eyes lit up with recognition, and he nodded; Kaoru continued. "I'd like to take Ai-chan and Shinta. They're... they're growing up so fast, all of them." Her eyes narrowed slightly, her brow creasing in worry. "...I was thinking of asking everybody to come, but with Tsubame being pregnant... you know how protective Yahiko is... I was thinking we could ask if Shinya could come along, too. He's been a little down ever since..." For what seemed to be the millionth time, she trailed off. "...since Kenji left."

"The Gion Festival?" Shinta exclaimed as he jumped to his feet, all signs of suffocation miraculously vanishing. "The one in Kyoto?" Both Kenshin and Kaoru nodded, and Shinta's face split into an enormous grin; biting down on his pride, the boy dropped to his knees and touched his nose to the floor. His voice was bitingly sarcastic and mocking as he spoke. "Oh great mother Himura, pleasure-giver to father Himura and mighty ass-kicker, by all that is good and holy, will you let us g--" But his words were cut off as Kaoru's foot slammed down on his head, grinding it into the floor.

"Watch your language, kid!" she ordered as she desperately tried to hide her blush. Kenshin let out a small "oro". "I think I'll just take Ai and Shinya, if you don't mind!" Then she stomped off, Kenshin in tow. Shinta cried out in protest and staggered after his parents.

"Aw, c'mon! You know I was just joking!"

"Great mother Himura, that one you're right on," Kaoru bit out. "You're lucky if I don't kick your a-... butt." Kaoru had tried to keep whatever nasty language she was capable of spewing far from her children's ears, but Shinta had obviously picked it up elsewhere. Either Sano or Yahiko were likely culprits. "If you want to come to the festival with the rest of us, you'll double up your chores and tone down the language."

"O-of course!"

"By the way, where _is _Ai-chan?"

"She might be visiting Yahiko and his family," Kenshin said; his statement was confirmed by Shinta's nod. "She's taken a rapt interest in Tsubame-dono's pregnancy."

"She won't cause trouble or anything, will she?" Kaoru asked. The chances of Ai causing trouble were slim to none, but one could never tell when one had a sibling like Shinta... The last thing Kaoru needed was for her sweet, adorable daughter to start swearing like Sano. Kenshin merely laughed. As the couple left Shinta to clean the dojo (a newly acquired chore, thanks to Kaoru's punishment), Kenshin regarded his wife with keen eyes.

"Kenji may be in Kyoto," he murmured, and Kaoru stopped. She averted her eyes; it was a guilty habit he had known her for. "Well, Shishou is still there. It's the likeliest place."

"...I know," Kaoru murmured. "That's one reason I wanted to go."

xXx

"I'm so happy for your mother," Ai murmured as she looked down at the pavement she walked upon. "Our mother didn't have any more children after Shinta and I were born, so I didn't get to see what it was like, but..." She allowed a soft smile to grace her features. "...it's wonderful."

"Really?" Shinya stared at her in mild confusion. "She's not even fat yet. You can't tell." As he said this, he glanced down at the grocery list they had been ordered to fill out. On an ordinary occasion, Shinya would loathe being told to do anything. But with Ai's company, it wasn't so bad. It was better, in fact... although he would die before he let anybody know. Shinya was quite sure that he had inherited his pride from his father.

But still, when Ai gave him questioning looks; it made him fidget uncomfortably. The young Myogin watched her as she admired a silk, pink and white ribbon on display with rapt eyes. She was pretty - he wasn't about to give her the "hag" treatment that his father did her mother - and her obvious smarts, despite the fact that she hid them behind a tentative mask, made her all the more attractive. Shinya shook his head furiously, receiving a few more questioning looks from Ai in an attempt to banish the thought. He didn't want to ruin the friendship he had created with the Himuras.

Despite the fact that both Shinya and Kenji had been deeply engaged in their rivalry, Shinya had found that warming up to the younger Himuras was quite easy. Shinta, being that he was a little hellion, was a perfect prank-partner for him - the two were already infamous in Tokyo for their mischief - and Ai... he couldn 't pinpoint it, but there was something about her that kept Shinya from avoiding her. If other girls were to flock him (although Ai did no such thing; she was too smart to "flock"), Shinya would make a run for it. He always felt completely calm around the young girl, as if the idea of running was completely out-the-window. Shinta had caught site of this attraction from the start and, being that he could never let something go without a little teasing, bluntly brought up the matter one day.

_"Oi," he said, crossing his arms and looking at him seriously (which was terribly strange for Shinta), "you've got a thing for my sister, don't you."_

_"Wh-what?"_

_"Don't play dumb with me. You've been giving her all these weird looks lately."_

_Shinya suppressed a gulp. For a boy two years his junior, Shinta was terribly sharp. Either that, or the boy in question was just a horrible actor. Shinya fervently hoped that it was the latter reason. Much to his chagrin (and relief), Shinta's serious face faltered and he laughed, supporting himself on one knee and using his free hand to point at Shinya. _

_Shinya got him for that._

_"But seriously," Shinta said as he massaged his bruised head, wincing. "Don't kiss her or anything like that until you're absolutely sure she likes you back. If you do..." The devious grin was back, "...she'll avoid you for life."_

Shinya had attempted to deny such feelings for the Himura daughter at any cost, but he found it nearly impossible. Would she? Avoid him for life? It was a horrible prospect. Every time Shinta and Ai were over, Shinta would grin and give him the thumbs up, as if in giving a blessing; Shinya would merely roll his eyes and wait for the opportune moment to exact his "revenge". But every time he attempted to avoid Ai while in Shinta's presence, he caught her eyes - a little more melancholy than usual, something that made his stomach wrench - and he would look away.

For all those reasons, Shinya was eternally thankful that he had any alone time with Ai at all. The two continued talking, discussing mundane things like the weather, constantly dancing around subjects that had any merit at all... subjects such as Kenji.

Shinya's fist tightened on the bucket handle as he thought of the oldest Himura child. Always so arrogant, uncaring, cold... obviously impassive about the fact that his leaving had affected people. Earlier that morning, when Ai had first come to their house, Shinya had seen the sunlight glistening from the tear-streaks on her face. She was still trying to get over the fact that her brother had abandoned her, left her like she was nothing. The thought made Shinya burn inside. Shinta, upon being asked about it, had merely shrugged it off. He was determined to remain passive on Kenji's leave. It seemed that the brothers had rarely conversed personally; they had rarely actually connected, something Shinya found silly and logical at the same time. Although Shinta and Kenji looked very much alike (despite the slight difference of shade in their hair), their attitudes could be no more different. All the same, his thoughts returned to his anger for Kenji - for Kenji and for his leave.

"Bastard..." he muttered, to which Ai stared at him with wide eyes. "I-I-I didn't mean you--!"

"I'm sorry," Ai instantly muttered, looking away. Her large, violet eyes betrayed the hurt she felt. "I didn't mean to..."

"You didn't _do _anything," he said quickly, desperate to change her current thoughts of him. "I was just thinking... of somebody else." Saying that he was talking about her brother would do no further good; Ai's affection for her brother was very protective, and despite her usual quiet appearance, she could become furious when provoked. Shinya had never seen it happen, but Shinta had told him of a few times when it had. Apparently, Ai's temper was a cross between that of the Battousai's and her mother's. Either that, or Shinta was lying... once again, Shinya hoped that it was the latter of the two possibilities.

"Of my brother," Ai murmured, refusing to meet Shinya's gaze. The young Myogin fell silent, as did the girl beside him. As he had acknowledged many times before, she was smart. But now was a time he wished her wisdom would not interfere; either that, or she would just forget his words. Fate was not so kind. "Shinya-kun... my brother is important to me... to my family. I won't be seeing him for a long time, so..." She trailed off, once again, leaving her words to linger for a moment. "...don't call him that." Shinya made to grab her shoulder; moving with a speed she had inherited from Kenshin, Ai avoided his hand. Before Shinya could withdraw it, her own hand curled around his wrist in a vicelike grip. "Don't ever call him that."

Ai's eyes flashed suddenly, and she fell back, looking mortified by what she had just done (although it was only a terrible thing to do by her standards). A few people in the crowd exchanged glances, but said nothing. Ai continued to avert her gaze from Shinya's, knowing full well what she had done and feeling completely guilty for it.

"I'm sorry, Shinya-kun," she murmured. "I just... please." Then she stood, handing the boy the groceries she had been carrying, and ran. The observers exchanged disgusted looks, but no one said anything out loud. Shinya watched Ai leave numbly, feeling all the more stupid with every passing moment.

"Ai-cha... Ai-san!" he croaked, switching honorifics for the sake of his pride and starting after her. The groceries threatened to fall from his grasp, however, and he fell still. Shinya was forced to watch the girl's retreating figure and, after letting out a sigh, treated himself to a few degrading words. "Really genius, Shinya... marvelous..." He hadn't done anything remotely close to what Shinta had warned him about, and yet he had still managed to chase Ai away. Brilliant. Just _brilliant_.

"Upset the little girl, eh?" the old man from the nearby booth questioned sadly. Shinya had half a mind to tell to the old man to shut up, to completely throw his sense of respect out the window, but his eyes halted on the pretty pink and white ribbon Ai had been staring at earlier. The old man, realizing that Shinya's gaze was not focused on his face, traced his eyesight and chuckled; Shinya felt the blood rush to his face as his thoughts became known. "Maybe you'll buy a pretty ribbon for her, to cheer her up?"

"Ai-chan isn't materialistic," Shinya said dryly. He neglected to change the "chan" to "san". But all the same, the look in her eyes as she stared at the ribbon earlier... it had been wanting, but afraid to take. Ai was never one to ask people to give needlessly. But as Shinya reached out wary fingers and felt the delicate fabric, he imagined her rare smile as she took it; and before he realized what he was doing, he was reaching for the spare money he kept in the sleeve of his gi.

"Of course," the old man said as they exchanged money and ribbon. "No girl who's worth it is completely materialistic. But still..." He offered Shinya a crinkled smile. "Sometimes actions work better than words, eh?" Shinya felt more blood rush to his face and nodded feverishly, more than willing to be back home. He would have to explain Ai's sudden absence.

Upon reaching his house, Shinya was greeted with Tsubame's questioning gaze as she searched for Ai, and Yahiko's slight scolding for being so late. Before his mother was allowed to ask him about the Himura daughter's whereabouts, Yahiko broke in with different news.

"Kenshin and Kaoru were wondering if you would like to take a trip to Kyoto with them," he said. "Ai-chan and Shinta-kun will be going, too. The Gion Festival is going to take place soon." Shinya rose an eyebrow quizzically, and Yahiko sighed. "It's a popular summer festival in Kyoto. Shinta-kun said he and Ai-chan would love for you to come."

Shinta would, but Ai? Maybe not.

"I... I shouldn't," Shinya murmured, looking to his mother. "You need all the help you can get around the house, and I can work at the Akebeko when you're on maternity leave..." Tsubame, however, smiled.

"Shinya-chan, you should indulge yourself," she said, smiling. "Yahiko will help me."

"But-"

"They'll be leaving in a week or so, Shinya. Are you going or not?" Yahiko was less patient, but he got the message across; Shinya suppressed the natural urge to flinch. "Besides," his father's mouth curled into something between a smile and a sneer, "aren't you going to be giving that ribbon to Ai-chan?" Once again, Shinya's face colored and he looked away, muttering nervously; Tsubame smiled and Yahiko chuckled.

"A... all right," Shinya murmured. Under the reassurance that his mother would be fine without him, and that he would have a good time with the Himuras... he would give his parents a little quiet time. He turned stiffly and headed towards his room, feeling the silk in his pocket gently.

_'Besides,' _he thought as he placed the ribbon carefully in his bags as he packed, _'I need to say sorry to Ai.'_

xXx

"Where were you?" Kagami asked irritably as he poured himself some sake. The boy sitting on the other side of the table smiled innocently and took the jug for himself, pouring a small amount of the liquid. He watched as the alcohol let off a small cloud of steam before rising the cup to his lips, downing it in one gulp.

"Your men from the docks had a little trouble earlier, Kagami-sama," he said after wiping his lips politely. Kagami's eyes widened as the boy continued. "A rather insightful boy caught on to the opium scheme."

"What now?" Kagami questioned urgently. "Have the police found the opium yet? How many workers have been arrested?" The young man in front of him merely smiled again, his green eyes glistening. Calloused fingers reached out and poured more sake into his small cup.

"The boy hasn't made the opium deal known to the police," he said quietly. "But I regret to inform you that we lost two workers earlier. Do you know Ikiro-kun?" As Kagami shook his head, the boy shrugged. "He was working at the docks. He was the one who brought the boy to work, and it was because of him that the opium was found out. Anyway..." He drank again, but his actions were in no way slowed by the effects of the sake; he had long-since forgotten how to become drunk. It took much more alcohol than this. "...Ikiro-kun was a little silly yesterday and today, so I disposed of him."

"What of the other worker?" There was no surprise in Kagami's voice; it was as if the killing were a common thing. If he were made aware of the fact that Ikiro had been killed over calling him a dog, he would not have been fazed in the least.

"Yubo Hakage-kun," the boy supplied. "He was in the way."

"Ah," Kagami murmured as he poured himself some more sake. After downing the drink, he sighed slightly, rubbing his forehead. The boy's smile remained, but his eyes questioned his master's frustration.

"Still no word of the girl?"

"No," Kagami murmured. "It's... aggravating. We have half of the information from the first girl, but we need the second one to get enough to actually make progress. I'm taking you off dock duty - I'll put somebody else on it - and you'll lead the search for her. She couldn't have gotten far. Those drugs we gave her would knock a horse out." The boy laughed humorlessly, and Kagami rose an eyebrow. "You're a creepy child, Yousaku-kun, you know that?" The boy, Yousaku, merely laughed again.

"I know," he said as he stood. "I suppose I'll be off, then. No better time to start than the present, eh?" Kagami watched as the boy began to leave; he stopped suddenly, then turned. He placed a hand behind his head and smiled nervously. "Oh, ah ha ha... what's the girl's name? It will be easier to look once I know who she is."

"Raikoji," Kagami said almost tiredly. "Raikoji Mana."

xXx

"Mana-san," Kenji said as he entered the room. The girl in question was sitting, propped up against the wall. She glanced over to him for a moment, and a smile ghosted across her face.

"I'm feeling much better," she murmured. "Thank you... um..."

"Himura," Kenji supplied. Mana's eyes widened for a moment, but the surprise was gone as soon as it came. He thought it better not to give first names, however, and Mana nodded. Kenji felt her blue eyes sweeping his face, as if searching for some sort of lie; he released the breath he hadn't realize he'd held when she looked down to her pale hands.

"Thank you, Himura-san," she said, tilting her head downwards slightly. "I owe you."

"Feh," Kenji muttered, averting his own gaze to the corner and sitting down. "What can you offer me? You're just as good as an invalid." Mana, instead of taking it the way he had intended for her to - to be offended and to drop the conversation altogether - nodded and sighed dejectedly. She was more concerned with the fact that she would be unable to properly help. A silence descended upon the two of them, and, much to Kenji's surprise, Mana pulled herself to her feet.

"Would you like to escort me out tonight?" she asked, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. Kenji merely stared at her, confused. Mana's brow creased slightly, but she offered Kenji a hand rather than elaborating. "It's almost dinner time, right? I'm... I'm hungry. Would you like to escort me?" she repeated. Kenji glanced out the window - people were already setting up the night lights and the streets were filled with bustling figures - and nodded reluctantly.

xXx

"Here's the soup you ordered," the waitress chimed as she handed Mana the bowl. The young Raikoji tilted her head inwards thankfully. Kenji quirked an eyebrow irritably at the cheap food; because of the incident at the docks, he had received no pay. He would need to find another way to Kyoto.

"Are you feeling all right?" Mana asked as she regarded him with worried eyes. Kenji looked away, feeling irritation and slight embarrassment rising within him. The looks the two of them were getting was infuriating. Mana, tracing his sidelong glances to the retreating looks from the other tables, sighed. "Sorry."

"Whatever," Kenji mumbled as he partook in his own soup. Mana did the same, fishing out rare chunks of fish and vegetables; her chopsticks fell to the table with a clatter suddenly, and Kenji's eyes flashed up to hers. They were wide, fearful. It was not he that she was looking at, but rather something behind him. Kenji turned swiftly, eyes narrowed, and sought what could have scared her... but found nothing. Holding back a groan of annoyance, Kenji turned back to Mana and prepared to question her, but instead found that she had recomposed herself and was eating the food. Her hands trembled as she held the retrieved sticks. "What is it?"

"Nothing," she murmured, and before he could interject, she continued. "Don't cause a scene. Wait until we leave." Kenji, much to his chagrin, fell silent; he had never heard her speak in such a demanding tone. The young Himura kept his senses alert and ready. It might have just been something minor that had frightened her. It might have been pointless. But all the same, he did not want to take chances. It was not for whatever value he had for the girl, but rather for the information he knew she was hiding. It had been hard to detect, but the secrecy in her ki was well-hidden - almost too well - and it sparked his curiosity.

Before Kenji could raise the chopsticks to his mouth again, Mana's hand flew out and grabbed his wrist, shaking as she glanced towards the door pleadingly. Kenji's first reaction was irritation, but he forced it down and felt his senses become all the more alert; setting the proper amount of money on the table, he made for the door. Mana had already jumped to her feet and was waiting somewhat impatiently. The two began walking back in the direction of the inn when Mana's hand gripped Kenji's upper arm, leading him into a dark alley. This time, Kenji did not question her actions.

"He's here," she croaked. The darkness hid her features, but Kenji was sure that her eyes were wide with horror. She lifted a shaky limb, pointing in the direction from which they had come - a direction now marred by the slim figure of a young man as he neared them. "He's here, Himura-san..."

"Raikoji Mana, yes?" the young man asked. Kenji's eyes widened just slightly; he seemed to be no older than a boy. But then again, that was the general idea people got from looking at _him. 'It's no good, being short,' _he thought somewhat sadly before readying himself. A chuckle was heard from the intruder. "Found someone to hide behind? Why did you run away in the first place?" He sighed. "Our jobs aren't very easy. You could be courteous and lend a hand."

"Where is my sister?" Mana suddenly choked, standing firm. It was a brave attempt, but it was wasted. The boy merely smiled again, sickeningly and sneeringly. "Where... where's Chizuru-nechan?" Kenji's eyes widened yet again, and his mind flashed back to the young woman he had met before departing Tokyo. _'Raikoji Chizuru...'_

"Chizu-chan? She's fine. Although she misses her sister, and..." the sneer widened. "...she's quite sad that her sister abandoned her."

"D-don't say her name so informally, Yousaku-san!" Mana demanded. Kenji saw more an more of her sister with each word, although the only words he had exchanged with Chizuru had been... well, she had called him a bastard. That had been all. Mana continued. "She knows what I left for! I didn't abandon her!"

"First," Yousaku drawled, "you should know that every man working for us calls Chizu-chan informally. Compared to some of the other men, I'm being all-too kind. Now..." His hand darted within the cloak and Kenji, who had been absorbing their words with rapt interest, narrowed his eyes. "...are you going to come quietly, or are you going to let your friend die? It really doesn't matter to me." To this, Mana fell silent. Kenji, his pride wounded, stepped forward angrily.

"You shouldn't make stupid assumptions," he meant to hiss, finding that his voice came out as a bored drawl. He rather liked it. "Not unless you plan on backing them up." His hand flew to the hilt of his sword; even in the darkness of the alley, he could see Yousaku's eyes light up with interest.

"Oh, but I do. You're... Himura-san, aren't you?" Kenji showed no emotion, but the boy nodded. "That's your name. Himura-san, you would have done well to run earlier. But I'm afraid that after my exchange of words with Mana-chan, you've heard a bit too much. Be seeing you..."

Kenji was suddenly aware of the hissing needles flying through the air; he felt them before they pierced his flesh, and, realizing the gravity of the situation, jumped to the side. He gave Mana a sharp tug, and she fell along with him. Kenji hissed out in pain as two needles penetrated his arm. The damage they would have done, granted they had hit the desired ares, would have been much worse. As the young Himura whirled back into a ready position, he heard a whistle of awe.

"You're very quick, Himura-san. Those needles were meant for your neck." Yousaku rose a pale hand and stroked his own neck in indication to Kenji's. His opponent merely glared in return; Kenji suddenly felt the urge to hew the neck in half. Surprised with himself, he pounded the urge down. The techniques of Kamiya Kasshin Ryu surged within him, willing to break through and defeat his opponent but not kill him, and once again, he fought them down. The throbbing in his arm warned him of the boy's incredible strength and speed; had it been and ordinary man, the needles would hardly have hurt (if they had made contact at all). "Mana-chan," the voice shattered Kenji's thoughts, "I'm sorry, but you'll need sleep through this. Bloodshed's not pretty." Another whistle sounded, although Kenji was sure that he was the only one capable of hearing it; Mana stiffened, then slumped forward. Kenji's eyes widened and he threw a questioning look towards Yousaku.

"She's fine," he confirmed, smiling yet again. "But I wouldn't encourage pulling out those needles. You could kill her if you did it wrong." As Yousaku spoke, Kenji's eyes flicked over to Mana; the glisten of moonlight from a spot on her neck made his eyes widen. The needles hadn't gone too far in - the ends were easily seen, and the tips had hardly buried themselves into the flesh - but the site itself was revolting. "Himura-san. Getting your head out of the game isn't good for you."

Kenji pulled the sakabatou from its sheath in an instant battoujutsu - a move he had learned merely by listening to the words of dojo masters who could not perform the move to save their lives, but who knew how it was done - and the clang of metal was heard as needles fell to the ground harmlessly. An unnatural sneer curled his lip as he reached to his throbbing arm, pulling the needles from his flesh. The pain hardly seemed to register. All Kenji found himself focused on was the growing madness inside him, the irresistible urge...

...the urge to _kill._

Kenji dashed forward, the sneer never leaving his face. Mana was forgotten as Yousaku pulled a short blade from his cloak, catching Kenji's sakabatou in perfect timing. Kenji dislodged himself from the blade lock and dashed forward yet again. Yousaku mirrored his movements and used them to his advantage, threading about them like water. For every attack the light-haired boy made upon the dark-haired one, his opponent blocked and jumped away, only to reappear with a new attack. Kamiya Kasshin was forgotten. The two fought it what seemed to be an elaborate dance, rather than a death match. Kenji's sneer did not disappear; rather, it widened, just as Yousaku's did.

"Good," the boy breathed, sounded exhilarated and awed. "Very good! Himura-san, I've underestimated you!" But rather than infuriated, his tone heightened in happiness. "But still..." It dropped down to a sigh, and before Kenji knew what was happening, the boy was holding the short blade in one hand; the other had vanished, replaced with another short sword. Both blades clashed with Kenji's, twisting it painfully from his grip. The young Himura fell back, eyes wide, as the adreline abandoned him. Small gasps escaped his throat as he glanced to where his sword lay, useless. "...you've got a ways to go."

Kenji took a step back, not in the direction of his sword, but in Mana's direction. As his heel touched her side, the sneer vanished, replaced by a blank slate.

"...A stalemate, then," he said, to which Yousaku quirked an eyebrow at him. The smile never left the light-haired boy's face.

"A stalemate, Himura-san? I'm the one with the weap-- ah," he halted as Kenji rose a foot, hovering it dangerously over the needle potruding from Mana's neck. If it were to be shifted in any way - or to be pressed in further - it would cause great damage. "You're willing to use the girl as a hostage against me?" Kenji nodded, a smirk framing his features. Inwardly, the more human part of him was against this; it was against bringing innocent people to harm. _'She's not innocent,' _he reminded himself as he kept his foot in place. _'She has something to do with this.'_ But before he could make any more moves, Yousaku had walked over to him, sheathing his own blade in the process.

"I like you, Himura-san," he said as he reached down to Mana, pulling the needle deftly from her neck. The girl in question did not even shift. Kenji watched Yousaku, tense, as the boy retreated from the alley. "You're smart. Would you agree to a deal?"

"A deal?" Kenji parroted, quirking an eyebrow. Yousaku nodded. The usual smile was back, bereft of any sort of killing malice.

"Mana-chan trusts you. We need that kind of trust. You see," he turned the needle in his fingers as he spoke, "Mana-chan and her sister are very important to a little project my employers are working on. We need somebody to babysit the two of them... somebody to bodyguard them, actually. Despite their overall worthlessness, they do have something we want." As Kenji looked at him questioningly, Yousaku laughed. "Ah, I'm sorry, but I won't be able to tell you. Orders from above... you know."

"I suppose," Kenji said calmly. If he couldn't get these answers from a puppet, then he would from the person controlling the strings.

"You're very clever, Himura-san," Yousaku said. "Good as you are... if you turn down this offer, I'll be forced to kill you."

"Didn't we go over this earlier?" Kenji drawled. "I'm not your ordinary thug."

"As I saw earlier," Yousaku said brightly. "Now, will you be coming along or not? You can quit whenever you feel so inclined, and if my sources are correct..." Another sneer. "...you're looking for a fast way to Kyoto, right?" Kenji nodded stiffly. "It pays well."

"...I suppose," Kenji repeated. Yousaku's smile never faltered as he tossed something casually; Kenji caught it, then glanced down at it. Money.

"We'll be leaving tomorrow," Yousaku informed him casually. "About dusk or so... when the cargo boats leave. You can tell Mana-chan a thug tried to get you on the way home, and after you beat him up, you stole his money. It's common enough." All Kenji could manage to do was nod. On his way out, the boy stopped; he turned around suddenly, addressing the Himura with amused eyes.

"Your eyes," he noted, "they're very unusual. Blue most of the time, but amber when you're willing to kill..." Kenji's eyes widened greatly. "...They're very beautiful."

Then he was gone.

_to be continued..._

_A/N: The made-up charries just keep piling up, don't they? D: But I'll try to keep them from killing the plot too much. The thing that stinks about RK is that the only real badguys are Shishio (dead), Enishi (whom I like too much to beat up), and the local yakuza (just plain not worth it). Plus, like I said in another author's note, Kenji, Shinya, and Chizuru are about the only people in his generation. _

_DONCHA WANNA SEE THE CHILDREN OF THE FUTURE?! Look at it like that. xD_

_Yousaku's name was pretty much shoved together. I used the 'Yous' from 'Yousei' (fairy), and the 'aku', which means evil. He was not based off of Soujiro, however. Woe is me. _


	5. Enemies and Friends

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin.**

"Rei-chan! Rei-chan!"

A snicker escaped the young woman's throat as her mother called out for her; realizing her blunder, she bit her lip and fell silent. Had she not been so amused, she would have been invisible to even the most cunning of hunters. The art of hiding, spying, and attacking from the shadows was an art long forgotten, but a treasure nonetheless. Rei had been working devoutly with it since her youth, and when she had been summoned away to China, she had been able to test her skills. Surprisingly enough, the job was easy - almost _too _easy - and she had soon discarded it in favor of a more challenging means of living.

Rei was shaken from her thoughts as a hand descended on her scalp and pulled sharply, allowing a cry of surprise and agony to slip through her lips. Rei was hauled to her feet by her mother (who was actually a bit short; Rei herself would be taller than her once full-grown, she knew ). She was met with a fierce glare, to which she merely smiled pathetically.

"'Lo, Mom," she offered, to which the shorter, somewhat scrawny woman rolled her eyes.

"Dammit, Rei-chan! You're home for a day or two, then you decide to go running off? Your life in Kyoto is going to be ordinary - if you can't grasp that fact, I'll spell it out for you - _ordinary!_" Rei's scalp was released as her mother planted her hands on her hips, jutting out her chin in a way that only she herself could manage to mirror. "Don't you know how happy your father was when he saw you?"

"How could you tell?" her daughter retorted stubbornly. "He's so bleak..." But before she could list the rest of her father's poor qualities, she was met with a smack to the head. She bit back a moan as she rubbed the offended skull, swearing under her breath. No matter how scrawny or weak-looking, her mother sure made her hits count.

"Don't you dare insult Aoshi-sama!" Misao screeched at her eleven-year-old daughter. Much to her chagrin, Rei merely stuck out her tongue teasingly.

"'Aoshi-sama, Aoshi-sama!'" she mimicked, the sneer never leaving her face. Misao's face grew redder with every word. "Sheez, you're married to the guy. And unless I'm adopted, you guys have done more than shaken hands. D'you really think you should carry on with the 'sama' for the rest of your life?" She earned another whack on the head for her impudence. Misao glared at her after the smack.

"How I refer to my husband doesn't concern you," she snapped. "And if you have any respect for your father, you'll use the same words as I." Misao's nose wrinkled slightly at the last words; were those _her _words, coming from her mouth? After comparing herself to the happy-go-lucky sixteen year old she had been too many years ago, it seemed unlikely. But now that she was receiving the same kind of attitude she had given from her daughter, she realized how much of a pain it could be. She massaged her forehead, letting out a sigh. She would need to get used to it fast. Rei had just returned from China; was it too much to ask that she show a little respect? Upon looking back and thinking of the shy five-year-old that had left them, Misao felt both nostalgia and irritation. Rei's job had been nothing extremely special by their standards, but it had taken far too long. After Misao and Aoshi had realized the truth behind the time their daughter would be taking - years instead of months, as they had planned - they both grieved, but had eventually gotten over it. Rei, despite her duty as a ninja and spy, had risked her location in order to write to her parents. That alone had been good enough, and when Aoshi had suggested they make a little brother for her - Misao's stomach fluttered at the remembrance - the healing had swiftened.

"Sheez, you sound like your eighty instead of thirty-three," Rei taunted as she dusted herself off and started walking in the direction of their home. Misao sighed and her shoulders sagged as she followed her daughter. Although she had never been one to contemplate things (she had let Aoshi do that), she found herself staring at the eleven-year-old with rapt interest.

Rei was smart; almost too smart for her age. At first, Misao had been proud about this, but after realizing the cost of Rei's smarts, she had resented them. Her investigation in China - an investigation that had included scouring the underground, searching for the possibility of a deadly new drug that had never been found - had taken a toll on her. Shy little five-year-olds did not escape Shanghai unscathed, even if the era the people of Japan lived in was supposedly peaceful. Rei had been beaten by her "employer", but not harshly enough to be permanently crippled; she had been sexually harassed, but not to the point of being raped. When Misao had read this in the letters she had received, written with such uncaring bluntness, she had felt her stomach doing flips. Then Aoshi had read them... Misao had never seen him so angry. The usually calm, collected man had shown the killer intent within him, a killed intent aimed at whomsoever dared to hurt those around him. It frightened her and reassured her at the same time.

After three long years, clear evidence had shown that the drug the underground rulers of Japan had expected had not yet been made. They could have left the mission there, but Rei had insisted on continuing, believing that there was a good chance that this drug would be made soon. Although her parents had protested, their daughter had firmly held her ground. It had taken another three years to find the men plotting the manufacturing of a new kind of opium. Rei, despite her loathing for the men, had been unable to expose them due to the new plots of the Japanese underground. The justice she had been working so hard to achieve had fallen apart in front of her. She had been fighting a lost cause, and, enraged, she had abruptly quit and returned to Japan. Despite the fact that her mission was a loss overall, Misao was glad that her daughter was back. If any of her family had a say in it, Rei would not be leaving Kyoto anytime soon.

Misao had considered several means of tying her down (marriage had been one of them, but Rei's young age and a lack of suitors due to their daughter's overall blunt attitude had rejected the thought). Misao shrugged the thought of marriage off; no matter how desperately she wanted to keep her child, she would not resort to tying her to a man she hardly knew. Rei was too smart for some run-of-the-mill rich boy. She would not settle for anybody who could not beat her to a stalemate, be it verbally or physically.

"Mom?" a quiet voice ventured, breaking into her thoughts. Misao's eyes widened as their six-year-old son, Aoko, blinked up at her innocently. Misao grinned and tustled the boy's hair before leading him back to the house. Rei kept a distance - she had known about her mother's pregnancy and Aoko's birth from the beginning, but she had only just met him, and he her - and she felt slightly uncomfortable around him. It would take getting used to.

_'They don't look alike,' _Misao thought, grinning as the two dodged past each other uneasily yet not coldly. And it was true; both had dark hair that had been inherited from their parents, but that was it. Rei's hair reminded Misao so much of Aoshi, save for the fact that it was longer; it still retained its straightness, and the high peak of the bangs was easily recognized as something her husband had contributed. Rei also had the famously ice-like eyes Aoshi was famous for. Despite her amazing likeness to her father, her facial features were far more feminine. But her looks were one thing; her attitude was another entirely. She was very much like Misao had been, save for the fact that she was, admittedly, far more inquisitive and observant. Where Misao would have rushed forward, Rei would have quickly devised a plan and followed it up with a charge.

Aoko, who had been partially named after his father, looked very much like Misao. His figure was scrawny and would easily be lanky, once he was full-grown. The high, boyish rise in her hair Misao had prided herself for was easily seen on Aoko. His eyes were a very deep shade of blue-green. But if he was like his sister at all, it was because of their contradictions to their looks; despite being very easily seen as his mother's son, Aoko retained his father's attitude. Misao remembered catching the two of them sitting together peacefully in an abandoned hall, meditating like pros (although Aoko's legs had cramped up not long after assuming the infamous _seiza _position).

There was no greater difference between their children than this: the Himuras knew all about Aoko, whilst they knew very little about Rei. Kenshin, Kaoru, Kenji, and the twins had visited Kyoto once in a while before their daughter had left, but it was easily known that they hardly remembered her. Shinta and Ai, having been at a very young age, surely knew nothing about her. Misao suppressed a snicker; they would need to meet her sometime. Ai, the little darling that she was, would no doubt willingly accept Rei (but the ninja would no doubt be intimidated by the other girl's quiet beauty), and Shinta... despite the fact that he was quite the hellion, Misao felt that Rei would be able to show him a thing or two.

"Aoshi-sama?" she asked as she stepped onto the porch, observing her silent husband. Aoshi's eyes flickered open, and he glanced up at his wife, nodding to indicate that he heard her. Misao grinned again. "I found Rei-chan."

"Good," Aoshi said, and something of a sigh escaped his lips. Rei never ceased to amuse (or exasperate) him.

"The Gion Festival is starting soon," Misao reminded him. Aoshi merely nodded, and this time, his wife rolled her eyes irritably. It had been like this before their courtship; she had practically waved a sign in his face to get him moving. Actually, things had been considerably worse. Okina had decided that, in his old age, he would never see his grandchildren (despite the fact that Misao insisted upon his being her grandfather already). He had then proceeded to set the infinitely irritated young woman up on o-miais - sort of like blind dates, although usually more formal and often led to marrying an unknown person - which had, surprisingly, invoked the "wrath of Aoshi".

Apparently, men had to meet standards to be eligible for marrying a shinobi. _'Shyeah, right,' _Misao thought. The long years of working and studying under Aoshi and Okina had told her otherwise. Nonetheless, somewhat amused by Aoshi's sudden interjection, Misao had followed his lead. She proceeded to throw aside the best of men under Aoshi's watchful eye; they were either too stupid (despite having received a full education), too weak (despite nearly matching Misao's strength, although that was not much when it came to Aoshi), or unable to provide for her (despite owning land and money).

_"If you can't be satisfied with somebody I set her up with," _Okina had raged, _"why don't you just marry the girl and put us all out of our misery?"_

_Misao had, of course, decked Okina for that. But his comment seemed to have the exact opposite effect on Aoshi. At first he had been surprised (if you counted slightly widened eyes surprised), but then he had silently let it go, pretending never to have heard it. Misao had never felt so emotionally hurt. She had reluctantly expressed this hurt to a visiting Kaoru, who had demanded they show Aoshi what she was made of._

Thus, the two young women called up Okon and Omasu. They had tried every sort of cloth imaginable on the shinobi, they had relentlessly pampered her with powder... Misao had thought she would die of suffocation, but in the end, it had all been worth it. With a little difficulty, she had sauntered (or stumbled) out into the hall where Aoshi had been sitting, and, with a little prodding, had stirred him from his meditation.

Aoshi's expression had been _priceless._

_After that, he absolutely refused to let Okina continue with the o-miais. He made no formal proposals, but both he and Misao had seen much more of each other than usual. She had tried to doll herself up another time, but the older ninja had caught her in the act (and in a rather uncompromising state of dress), and he had all but demanded that she stop. Misao had been confused, but after some counseling from her close girlfriends, she had realized that Aoshi would be unable to see her again like that without completely losing it. The thought of her "Aoshi-sama" doing anything of the sort made Misao smile. _

But it had happened. Kaoru, Okon, and Omasu had all agreed to one more session of dolling Misao up in an attempt to see if their theory proved true. Although they did far less than they did the time before, the result was all the more explosive; Aoshi, upon seeing her, and nearly dragged her from the house (while her three companions cheered her on deviously).

_"Why do you insist on wearing...?" his question trailed off as he slid feather-like fingers over the long, silken sleeves draping Misao's arms. The shinobi stared at him, confused and yet deviously happy. Upon seeing the look in his eyes, however, her confidence abandoned her._

_"Why do you care?" she managed, looking away. "A-Aoshi-sama, I hate what Okina's trying to do, but he is trying to help me. I was just thinking that your reaction last time... that you... ugh," she muttered, wiping off the makeup with her sleeve (and possibly ruining the fabric). "Never mind... I feel like such an idiot..."_

_"Why would you ever...?" Once again, his question trailed off, but his meaning was clear. Misao all but glared at him. Were all men so clueless when it came to these matters? "If you walk around like this, other men will take advantage of you."_

_"I'm perfectly capable of defending myself!" Misao had blurted out, offended. Was she really so weak? She knew that her strength was nothing in comparison to Aoshi's, but she could beat up any other man in Kyoto, were she to try. The hurt in Aoshi's eyes made her own widen considerably. _

_"...But what if somebody hurts you emotionally?" he had finally managed. Misao's eyes, had they been able to do so, widened all the more. This was a side of Aoshi she had never seen before... or it was a side she had seen but refused to acknowledge. She attempted to tell him that she would not let such things happen, that she would be a good, stubborn girl, but she found that the words were frozen in her throat. Aoshi continued. "You're strong, Misao. But I'm not willing to let you fight for yourself."_

_"What are you going to do?" she asked, suddenly defiant. She loved Aoshi to the point of respecting him, to the point of following him across Japan, but her natural stubbornness kept her from becoming a doormat, even for him. "Keep me on a leash? Sit beside me all my life while I have kids and... and get old..." She trailed off, feeling both stupid and yet completely right. The thought of Aoshi threatening her future husband was unnerving. _

_"Yes."_

_His answer caught her off guard. Misao stared up at Aoshi with large, confused eyes as she attempted to read his expression. _

_"What?" she challenged. _

_"Yes, I intend to stay beside you and your children. Yes, I intend to watch you get old." Misao felt herself blush as he spoke; his elaboration was, truthfully, embarrassing. But before she could speak, he continued, shocking her by pushing back the silk fabric and exposing her hand, lacing his fingers through hers. "I hadn't planned on the leash, but I can always make adjustments."_

_"You..."_

_"I'm a possessive man, Misao," he said as he brought his face down, leveling his gaze with hers. "And, unless you are against it, I intend on keeping you."_

_Misao, as she remembered this day, bit back a laugh. They had gotten married not long after that, shocking the Kenshin-gumi and pretty much any other human being they had come to know through the course of their lives. Misao had often found herself thinking of her old, dead comrades. How would they have reacted? Hannya would have been glad and supportive, as he had always been. The others would have probably made joking remarks about it, if only for the sake of tormenting the couple, but they would have been supportive of it overall. _

"I would really like to go," she continued, drifting back to the upcoming festival. Aoshi merely nodded again, and the shinobi resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "How about it, Rei-chan? Aoko-chan?" Both siblings nodded (Rei doing so eagerly and Aoko doing so calmly). "Then we'll go. It'll be a blast."

As everybody went their own way, Aoshi stood and placed a hand on Misao's shoulder, slightly surprising his wife. He drew a envelope from his yukata and handed it to her.

"The Himuras," he said, answering her questioning gaze. Misao's eyes widened with joy as she tore open the letter, her eyes flying over the characters written on the paper. As the letter came to a close, her grin widened.

"They're coming to Kyoto for the festival, too," she announced happily. "This is perfect; they can stay here, and they'll all have a chance to catch up with Rei-chan. I can't wait to see the look on Himura's face!" She laughed as she handed Aoshi the letter, allowing him to read. He had been considerate enough to leave it closed while it waited for her. Aoshi's expression did not change as he gazed at the contents of the message, but Misao knew that his feelings were nearly the equivalent to her own. It was not often that Kenshin and the others visited. "Too bad the Myogins can't come," she sighed. "Well, Shinya-kun can, but Tsubame is busy..."

"The twins are coming too, I suspect," Aoshi muttered, to which Misao stuck her tongue out childishly at him. The male ninja had never really loved Shinta. It didn't help that the young Himura did nothing to lessen this hatred (the last time he visited, he had called Aoshi a Buddha, mockingly worshiping him whenever he saw him). Kenshin and Kaoru were always nervous about Shinta's behavior around Aoshi and Aoko, but Misao had dismissed the matter. In truth, she wished Shinta would visit more often. The little demon had the makings of a great ninja, if his constant pranks and energy counted as anything.

"Kind of like a family reunion," she thought aloud, turning around to face Aoshi. She pulled him into a hug, smiling into the folds of his clothes. "I miss them all."

xXx

_"We never got to finish our battle, Himura-san," a light, taunting voice greeted Kenji from the darkness. The young Himura quickly fell into a battoujutsu stance, his hand hovering dangerously near the hilt of the sakabatou he wore at his waist. _

_The battle was every bit as invigorating as it had been the night before. Kenji felt the intoxication spreading through him before the sword slid from its sheath, slamming into the metal of Yousaku's. The only thing missing was the grace from earlier; this time, the two fought in a death struggle._

_Yousaku's smile was gone from his face, replaced by desperation, fear, knowledge of what was happening to him. Kenji relished the other man's fear as he brought his sword down again. It was only when the blade gave way that he realized his actions before the fight; he had flipped the blade, allowing the sharp edge to taste battle. Yousaku watched him, mortified, as he cradled his arm. It had been broken during the impact. _

_"Ready to die?" Kenji asked, the question a mere hiss between his teeth. He would not allow another sickening smile to ghost across the boy's face; instead, he brought the blade down, enjoying the sound of Yousaku's agony and the feel of his flesh giving way beneath the sharpened metal. A sword that had not seen bloodshed in all its time of use became stained, but Kenji did not care. All he felt was the pride that came with victory as he stared into the once deep, green eyes that had taunted him so much during their first meeting. They were dulled over now, shallow. A sneer, partially wanted but mostly not, crossed Kenji's lips. "You should have thought more before disgusting me."_

_But his voice was not his own, but rather, a voice from his past. Kenji stared down at his suddenly-small hands. The weight of the sakabatou, which should have been too much for a child to handle, vanished as the sword was replaced by a bokken. The blood that had surrounded him earlier was gone, and his enemy replaced. The small form of another student trembled, and Kenji sauntered over to the wall of the dojo and placed his bokken on the wall. What was going on?_

_"Kenji," his mother called, and before he could react to hearing her voice again, Kenji began walking towards the sound of her voice. His small, unstained hands gripped the door as he slid it open, allowing the sunlight to blind him momentarily. Kaoru stood before him, pointing out to the gate. "Would you go to the market with your daddy?" Before he could reply, before he could cruelly say that he wished he was back in Yokohama, Kenji nodded and proceeded towards the gate. Kenshin was not there; he was either down the road a ways, or he was yet to come. _

_"Who are you?"_

_A little girl, probably a year younger than himself had voiced her confusion; Kenji stared at her as she repeated the question. Her hair was long for her age, dark brown. Her eyes were a deep blue that greatly reminded him of his mother. Another girl was behind her, slightly shorter. She looked greatly alike to her sister, but her very pale skin signified their difference. _

_"Are you dumb?"_

_Kenji blinked. Dumb? As in stupid? "No," he growled defensively. The first girl merely grinned cockily at him. _

_"I meant, 'are you mute?' Like you can't talk," she elaborated, but Kenji already felt his childish irritation rising. Before he could sarcastically reply that she should have noticed his speech, she continued. "But you can."_

_"What do you want?" Kenji demanded. The smaller girl whimpered. The taller one, however, was unfazed. _

_"Do you have a bandage? My ne-chan hurt her... her knee." The last bit was forced out, as if it hurt to say it. Before Kenji could reply, she pulled up the kimono of the small girl. Had they all been older, Kenji would have blushed and told her to be a little more humble, but the innocence of childhood prevented him from worrying about it. Only the small girl seemed embarrassed. An ugly scrape was painted across the thin knee, bleeding lightly. Kenji noticed the other girl's bloody hands and bit back a breath; she had been applying pressure to stop the wound. _

_"I'll see," he mumbled hesitantly, turning back to the dojo. He didn't know where his mother kept her medical supplies, he realized with slight mortification. Kenji scoured the dojo, but found nothing. With no idea where to find the bandages, and an ego too large to admit defeat, he turned to his mother's room. Her ribbons... she loved them dearly, but she had so many of them. Kenji reluctantly snuck into the room, and, finding the worst ribbon he could, brought it out. It had been blue at one time, but it was stained almost to the point of being black. Kenji's eyes widened as he thought of blood. Had it been...? But why wouldn't Kaoru clean it? She was very tidy. Shrugging and deciding that the ruined ribbon would not be missed, Kenji turned and ran out to the gate. _

_Both little girls were gone. _

_"Hey," Kenji called out, hoping that the hurt he felt wouldn't filter through his voice. "Hey. Where are you? Hey!"_

_"Kenji?"_

_Kenshin approached his son, basket in hand. Kenji stared back up at his father, failing to remember that hiding the ribbon would be in his best interest. He was too focused on the fact that both girls had meanly pranked him, then left. _

_"I'm sorry, Kenji," Kenshin apologized. "It took me a while to find the bucket, and-- Why do you have your mother's ribbon?" Kenji looked down at the piece of cloth, realizing his trouble and making a futile attempt to hide it behind his back. Kenshin, however, took the cloth and stared at it for a moment. Instead of the usual scolding for stealing something of his mother's, a wistful smile crossed Kenshin's features. Kenji stared up at him in confusion. _

_"Why is it black?" he finally ventured. "Blood?"_

_"Yes," Kenshin murmured. Kenji's eyes widened, but Kenshin's retained their wistful look. _

_"Will you tell me about how it got bloody?"_

_"Someday. Maybe."_

Kenji's eyes flew open and he inhaled sharply, but he did not sit up. The first was a nightmare... the second, and almost ethereal memory.

Before he was allowed to reminisce, Kenji remembered the actual fight from last night, and he immediately stood. Mana was still lying under the covers, her breaths even and slow. Kenji felt a little shame twist at his gut. He had threatened to kill her last night, and instead of being relieved of her, he had wound up becoming her official bodyguard. What irony.

After the amazing battle he had gone through with Yousaku, Kenji had carried Mana back to the inn (and had once again received devious looks from the innkeeper). Due to how late the fight had made them, Kenji had made no attempts to wake up early. He would need the energy, he realized. He had accepted the job. Why, though? Kenji rubbed his forehead in exasperation, but his free hand went to the inside of his sleeve, fishing around for the money he had received earlier. Was it only because of that? Upon realizing that he may have taken the job for completely materialistic reasons, Kenji felt the shame twist his gut again.

No, it had been something else. Had it only been because of the money, he would have not taken the job at all. There had to be something else. Kenji racked his brain, thinking back to the fight. The sweet intoxication of it all, the marvelous energy that filled him when he fought so fiercely... that had been the reason. The mission, despite the fact that it was merely taking care of a girl, allowed Kenji to meet real warriors and experience real battles. It was a _challenge._

_Satisfied with the result of his thoughts, Kenji stepped over to the window, ignoring the poor view it gave as he stared out onto the horizon. The sun had kissed the top of the water hours earlier and was now high in the sky, a bit off to the west. It was a bit after midday, Kenji noted. As he moved, he felt his joints protest slightly. He had never fought like that before, and despite the fact that he had enjoyed it immensely, his body was unaccustomed to it. It he wished to battle again, he would have to ignore it. _

Kenji was shaken from his thoughts as he heard a sharp intake of breath. He turned to behold Mana, sitting up, clutching the blankets with shaky fists. Her lips moved, making no sounds as she processed what had happened earlier. Either that, or she was reliving a nightmare. Kenji found that he really did not care if it was the latter of the two. Mana's hands released the blanket and one traveled to her throat, massaging the place where she had been hit by Yousaku's needles. She had not known she had been hit there; she had been unconscious upon impact. She knew Yousaku, and she knew his methods of rendering a person helpless. The remainder of the needles was but a small, red spot on her neck. The holes that had been pierced were hardly noticeable, and were no doubt already healing over. The amount of control Yousaku needed for those needles was, Kenji realized, about the width of a piece of paper.

"You're awake," he said, startling her from the exploration of her neck.

"How did... how did we..."

"I managed to fend him off," Kenji lied effortlessly. It hurt, realizing how easy it was for him to do such things. "But he may be back. We're leaving for Kyoto tonight."

"We?" she questioned, eyes widening. Kenji, having not anticipated this response, merely shrugged.

"If you want somebody to protect you," he offered coldly. Mana nodded silently, looking back to her pale hands. No doubt, she had information that she wished to keep secret, but if Kenji were to work for the people using her, he needed to understand exactly _why_ she was so important. "Why did that man attack you? Are people after you?" Once again, guilt swept over him; he knew perfectly well that people were after her. What he wanted to know was why.

"...Yes, people are after me," she murmured, looking away in an attempt to avoid the subject. As the silence grew uneasy, she finally continued. "My sister and I... in the Bakamatsu, our father worked as a journalist on the Choshu side. He..." But much to Kenji's chagrin, she fell silent. She would not continue, and, realizing that her rare stubbornness would not allow for slips, Kenji sighed.

"Whatever," he muttered darkly as she stood, smoothing out her hair carelessly. "Get all your stuff ready. We'll have dinner, and then we'll take the boat. Understood?" Mana nodded, although it was quite obvious that she did not have anything to pack. Instead, she readied herself by combing through her messy locks with her fingers, using the other hand to massage the sleep from her eyes. Every once in a while, Kenji caught her hand flicking down to her neck, as if in remembrance. When he stood, readying his pack, she did likewise.

"Why are we going to Kyoto?" she ventured as they walked down the hall.

"I'm looking for somebody," Kenji replied smoothly. It was not a lie; despite the fact that he currently had a good source of income and a challenge to look forward to, he was still insistent on searching for Hiko. Kenji's plans of learning Hiten Mitsurugi were far from being discarded.

"Family?"

"No." Kenji suddenly found himself thinking of his parents and siblings, along with all the other people that had left. He bit back another remark that threatened to surface when Mana gave him a questioning look. "Sort of a... family friend," he murmured. Was that what he would call Hiko? It seemed unlikely considering the man's usual reference to his father (Kenji knew this only from Kaoru's stories), but it was the best thing Kenji could come up with. Mana, realizing that he was having problems labeling the person, merely nodded and fell silent.

"I..." she began nervously, then trailed off. Her eyes sought his nervously, and when he did not return the look, she continued as if reassured. "I hope to find my sister. You... you heard about her last night, when Yousaku..." Once again, she failed to complete the sentence, but Kenji merely nodded stiffly. If these guilty twinges kept it up, he was sure that he would have stomach pains later. Mana, thankfully, failed to take his usual silence as anything different. She merely allowed a small smile to ghost her lips at the thought of her sister. "You should meet her, Himura-san. I think you would like her."

"I think not," Kenji finally bit out. Mana fell silent.

xXx

Apparently, "dusk" had meant "midnight or very, very early in the morning". Kenji suppressed the growl threatening to sound from the back of his throat as he stood, shaking Mana lightly. Having never been a light sleeper, the girl blearily awakened and before she was able to register what was happening, she was being whisked off the bench and onto the oncoming boat. Her quick awakening did not improve her groggy state of mind.

Kenji was shown to a room by a great, fat man. Despite the fact that the ship was used for cargo, some rooms were left vacant as a means to accommodate them. Purposely ignoring the man's facial features (he had quickly learned that this was the best way to avoid a sneering look), Kenji shoved the door open and allowed Mana to choose the bed. They were strange European beds; futons on legs, he thought. Another oddity was the fact that one futon was attached on longer legs, placed on top of the first but still allowing plenty of space for the futon beneath it. Mana, still drowsy, took no notice of this and slipped under the covers of the first bunk without a word. As soon as she was sleeping (which really took no time at all), Kenji whirled over and addressed the fat man with a level stare.

"Is Yousaku-san here?" he nearly demanded, to which the larger man merely turned and motioned for him to follow. He led him to the front of the cargo ship, and despite the fact that the only thing lighting up the atmosphere were the illuminations coming from the city and the stars in the sky, Kenji spotted the light hair immediately and left the guidance of the other man. Yousaku, upon recognizing Kenji's approaching figure, smiled. Kenji instantly thought of the dream he had experienced the night before. Blood flying, his sakabatou flipped and tearing through this boy's pale flesh... he fought down the almost animal-like urge to make his dreams a reality.

"Hello, Himura-san," he said brightly. Kenji's glare, something forged between irritation and the attempt to stay coldly detached, made his eyes widen slightly. "Oh, ah ha ha... I guess we're a few hours late?"

"Only four or five," Kenji replied coldly, but the sarcasm he had been attempting to hold back filtered through. Yousaku laughed again, further annoying the young Himura. Kenji mentally scolded himself; about twenty-four hours ago, he had been struggling for his life in a battle against this boy (although he had failed to acknowledge that at the time).

"No worries, then," Yousaku said, his sickening grin never wavering. "Now, about your behavior on the boat. You'll have to refer to me as Yun-san - that's my name until we're back in Kyoto - so Ma-chan doesn't recognize me."

"You're an easily recognized person," Kenji retorted. "Even Mana-san would be able to figure it out... air-headed as she is."

"You don't really like Ma-chan, do you?" Yousaku's brow wrinkled slightly, but his face remained the same otherwise. Upon receiving Kenji's quizzically risen brow, he shrugged and sighed lightly. "Well, I think you would. You've known her for a little while now, and there's really nothing to hate about her."

"Why are you keeping Mana-san and her sister... Chizuru-san?" Kenji nearly demanded. Having been made to wait for about five hours had not helped his already-agitated temper. He was in no mood for beating around the bush, despite the fact that it may have been slightly wiser. The other boy, realizing the impressive means of changing the subject and respecting it in his own way, nodded.

"Chi-chan and Ma-chan are the only daughters of a journalist who worked for the Imperialists during the Bakamatsu... oh, you know that, don't you?" he asked after Kenji fought back the urge to roll his eyes. "Excuse me... where was I? Oh, yes. Their father was useless with a sword, but his writing skills were amazing, I hear. If Kagami-sama's words have any merit, he was also an excellent snoop. It seems that before he died, he was able to accumulate very valuable information about the Choshu orginazation's... _darker _moves, I suppose." He paused, and Kenji gave him a questioning look. He was about to demand more answers when Yousaku continued. "I can't help you there, sorry. Kagami-sama doesn't know, either."

"Kagami-san isn't the leader?" Kenji asked. He wasn't about to refer to anyone as a 'sama'. He would, if need be, call Hiko his master, but he would never stoop to the level of such pathetic honorifics. Years of his father's 'donos' had ingrained that into his mind. Honorifics aside, he was quite surprised; this boy's boss had another boss? How high did the branches of this so-called "orginazation" rise?

"No," Yousaku said simply. "But he's the boss's business man, so I suppose that makes him pretty important. I've never seen the boss, myself. But I suppose that he's quite good." Kenji didn't need to guess what the man was "good" at... judging from Yousaku's position despite his great skill with weapons, any man above him would be amazingly strong. It was either strength or intelligence that decided a person's position, Kenji thought. If this man called Kagami was the business man of the group, his smarts would need to be nearly unrivaled. Such a group would end up in prison for the opium trade alone, were they found out. Kenji had thought this possibility over, and he had later dismissed it as nothing, mentally promising himself that were the orginazation to be found out, he would run. It sounded cowardly, but it was all he needed to do. The only thing he had to make sure _not _to do was establish ties. It was that simple.

"How long will it take us to get to Kyoto?" Kenji drawled.

"A week, maybe two," Yousaku replied. He obviously had no sure-fire estimate. Kenji sighed; two weeks on a boat was not a tempting thought. If the fact that Mana would be staying on the same boat as him for this time - and on the same boat with her enemies, although she was unaware of this - unnerved him. How did Yousaku intend on keeping out of her sight for two weeks? Although Kenji did not doubt the boy's skills, he knew that in order to maintain a half-ordinary life, he would need to move about on the boat. Didn't everybody have their meals at the same time? Kenji brushed off the thought, labeling it as pointless. Whether or not Mana realized her situation made no difference to him... although the thought of openly betraying anybody like that sent another twinge of guilt through him.

"So, Himura-san. Tell me about yourself." When Kenji made no move to answer this question, Yousaku sighed. "Then let me take guesses. You love peace... no, somebody before you did. Right?" Kenji's eyes were wide.

"How did you...?"

"You have a reverse-bladed sword," the boy said brightly, gesturing to Kenji's waist. "If you're going to do any _field work _with us, you're going to need to flip it or lose it. Where was I? Well, anybody walking around with one of those would object to killing. But, although the blade is very sturdy, it's also a little old. Older than you. So maybe a family member gave it to you?" Kenji clamped his jaw shut, determined not to show too much surprise. This had all been observed during their battle, in which he had been too absorbed on the fighting itself to notice other things. Yousaku continued. "You've either been to a dojo for a long time, or you've learned the way of the sword yourself. You're used to lighter weapons... despite your obvious strength, you could have been better if you were used to wielding a sword. I suppose we can fix that, though." Kenji, feeling anger well up in him as he was unintendedly insulted, looked to the disappearing town of Yokohama. "Would you like to guess a little about me, Himura-san?"

"You have a medical background," Kenji muttered. It was really the only thing he could come up with quickly, and it was a pure guess. But the way Yousaku had used his needles earlier had proved that he knew exactly where to place them and how much force to apply. "You're from a foreign family, but you've lived in Japan for a long time." This was another guess; anybody who had seen the boy would guess that he was foreign-born, but his Japanese was perfect and held no strange accents. Kenji thought back to their fight, and finally added, "You're very good with a sword." It almost hurt to admit it. Yousaku laughed again, the childish features on his face masking the ruthless murderer within.

"You're very close, Himura-san," he said as he leaned on the rail of the ship. "My parents died very soon after I was born, and an uncle raised me. He wasn't too keen on it, seeing that I was the result of his beloved German sister marrying a wanderer. You see?" He gestured towards his hair. "Anyway, his branch of the family specialized in medical work. But in the end, they had nothing more to offer me."

Kenji's eyes widened just slightly. "You killed them?"

"No, no," Yousaku said between laughs. "Kagami-sama did. He wanted my uncle to work for him, but being that the man was somewhat of a fool, he turned him down. Kagami-sama killed him after that, and he took me in. I received an even better education, and I learned how to apply my abilities." He said this as if it were merely a fairy-tale, a happy story that could be told to children to sooth them into slumber. "How old are you, Himura-san?"

"Why should I tell you that?" Kenji gruffly replied, none-too-keen on revealing any information that couldn't be extracted from observation. The other boy merely shrugged, his green eyes glistening.

"I'm seventeen," he offered. Kenji was silent, but he inwardly marveled at how they were the same age. Yousaku looked to be no more than thirteen, but then again, Kenji suspected that people thought that of him. Too much of anything (including youth) was not a good thing.

"Where will Mana-san and I be staying in Kyoto?" he asked, cleverly using the thought to change the subject. Yousaku saw this, but he did nothing to prevent it. Instead, the usual sickening smile remained as he placed a hand to his head, rubbing it thoughtfully.

"Our group owns an inn," he said. "It's called 'Yun-ya'... after my alias," the words were followed by another laugh. "I am supposedly the keeper of the inn, but Ma-chan won't see enough of me to get suspicious. Chi-chan is already there, under the impression that she has escaped us."

"How often do they try to escape?" Kenji asked.

"Oh, every once in a few weeks," Yousaku murmured, looking up thoughtfully. The smile on his face tugged into somewhat of a sneer before vanishing, leaving the stupid innocence that Kenji had seen before. "It depends on how long it takes Chi-chan's wounds to heal." Upon hearing this, the young Himura's eyes widened slightly. How often were the two girls beaten, and how hard? Every time they tried to escape, probably. It was a somewhat mortifying thought, and Kenji pushed it from his mind, eager to forget any worries he felt for either one of them. According to their earlier meaning, Chizuru was an arrogant brat. It was easily enough seen.

Mana, however, showed signs of drugs... As Kenji thought of it, he remembered her pale, thin frame stumbling through the market in his direction. Chizuru, on the day they had met, had stumbled into him in a fashion not unlike that. _'Opium?' _Kenji wondered. No, if they accidentally overdosed, they would have died from it. They were most likely given regular sedatives.

"How much of a threat is this orginazation to the government?" Kenji suddenly voiced. If these girls were so important to their cause that they had to be drugged and beaten, it must have been a cause worth fighting for. Either that, or each and every one of the people working for it was insane, which was very unlikely.

"Very much of one, once we get the rest of the information out of Chi-chan," Yousaku answered in a sing-song voice. The thought of endangering the Meiji era seemed to excite him. When he turned to Kenji, his green eyes bored into the others, but his smile remained. "Why do you ask? If you work for the government, I'll be forced to kill you."

It was then that Kenji realized he had carried this conversation on for far too long, and he drew himself back, glaring at the man he would need to consider his comrade. The boy merely smiled back, although the Himura detected a sneer hidden away in his eyes.

"You won't be able to," he growled.

"Oh? As far as I can remember, I beat you last night. If Ma-chan hadn't been there, I would have killed you."

"But you didn't," Kenji argued. "That's what makes me different." Having said a thing that seemed so pathetic and yet so true, he turned, neglecting to bow respectively on the way out. He could feel Yousaku's eyes burrowing into his back as he retreated to the room he grudgingly shared with Mana, but he did not turn to share the glare. He knew that he would internally vomit if he saw that disgusting smile again, if he heard another revolting laugh. Despite the fact that the few moments he had spent at the dock seemed almost sociable, he had marked that boy as an enemy. And he knew that, despite the smiles, Yousaku had done the same.

_'I seem to have more enemies then friends,' _he thought irritably as he clumsily made his way to the top futon. As a whimper escaped Mana's lips from the futon below him, brought on either by a nightmare or severe discomfort from their strange sleeping conditions, he briefly questioned her status among the people he knew.

A friend?

Kenji questioned this thought, but soon discarded it. His actions the night before had proven quite clearly that he didn't care about her life, that he was willing to use it to his advantage. It was, surprisingly, a thought that made his stomach twist. She was useless; the only time he had used her was to save his own life. She was silent, slow, and she irritated him to no end. But at the same time, he realized that he did not hate her with the passion he did Yousaku. Or Ikiro-san, who had fooled him... and who was, mysteriously, gone. As he thought about it more, Kenji realized that it wasn't such a mysterious thing. He had been killed for being found out. What he felt for Mana was what he felt for any ordinary civilian; he stood on the paper-thin line between hatred and mere dislike. As Kenji settled himself with this answer, the question from before came to mind: was she a friend?

_'Maybe.'_

_to be continued..._

_A/N: Sorry for such a boring chapter. ; Kenji will finally get to meet Chizuru in the next chapter, which I'm really looking forward to, but I'm also kind of nervous about how he'll react to her. I want the pair of them to be able to accept each other unconditionally by the end, but the personalities I've given them will mean it will take a LONG TIME. This fanfic might be really... long. xD Or really short, I don't know. I hope to make it long, tho'. _

_Also, for those nit-picks out there, I'm really really sorry about any spelling/grammar mistakes I make. I spell-check all my stuff, but I guess that doesn't always cut it. _


	6. Purity and Stains

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin.**

He watched with weary eyes as Mana abruptly stood from the bunk-bed (he still preferred to think of it as a futon on legs, but Yousaku had merely laughed at him and told him its actual name) and ran, stumbling, from the door. Kenji openly rolled his eyes, despite the fact that no one was there to see his sarcastic irritation. It had become something of a habit when he was around Mana. Sighing lightly, the young Himura took the sakabatou from his side and used it to haul himself upright. On any usual day, he would have lifted himself with ease. But the time he had spent on the boat - about a week and a half, along with the fact that the boat rocked constantly - had tested his balance greatly. Kenji was able to walk without the sword's support easily, but waking up and adjusting to his surroundings every day aggravated him. He consoled himself with the fact that Mana had it much worse; she was terribly uncoordinated, and it appeared that she had a weak stomach.

Kenji never understood that part of the human body, but he was unwilling to read into it too much. Every day, usually after a meal, Mana would run to the side of the deck and empty the little food she had consumed into the ocean. Kenji had often seen other men on the boat eyeing her lecherously, and, with a bit of irritation towards both the girl and her onlookers, he had taken her back to their room. Mana was more than willing to comply. She seemed frightened by the men, and as her "willing" bodyguard, Kenji was to banish all those fears. Although it was an overall boring job, and Kenji disliked the idea of being anyone's babysitter, he didn't hate it as much as he should have. He was slowly coming to accept the fact that he wouldn't hate Mana as much as he hated others. But there was no doubt about it... he would hate her sister, Chizuru. Their brief meeting had told him that much.

It seemed that nearly everybody had their mind in the gutter. Whenever he left his room, Kenji caught people sneering towards his door, completely knowing of the fact that he was sharing a room with Mana. That fact was annoying enough, but the men worsened it by grabbing her backside or rubbing her thigh (under the mask of a mistake) whenever possible. Although Mana did not complain, she did keep her distance, and if a man were to show a great interest towards her, she would run (or shuffle; kimonos restricted running greatly) back to the room and close the door, only to open it when Kenji brought her meals for her.

That was not all. A few men, under the influence of alcohol (if the stench of their breath was any indication), had seen Kenji as a girl more than once. A poor, stupid oaf made the mistake of grabbing Kenji's butt and attempting to drag him to a room; he had been found many hours later with a broken arm and many, many ugly bruises to the head. When Yousaku had jokingly questioned Kenji about it, the young Himura, furious with his "comrade's" attitude and the shamefulness of it all, had nearly brought out the sakabatou and broken a few more bones. Yousaku had left, laughing and saying that Kenji had already begun to "loosen up".

Kenji didn't like the thought of it.

Loosening up meant definite weakness, something Kenji found he could not afford, especially with the company he currently kept. Over the course of a week and a half, he had noticed that everybody, save for Mana, was far too outgoing for their own good; they gave up information as if it were the most common thing. Had Kenji been holding a grudge against these people, he would have had the names and locations of their families (although most of these people had left their family or had been thrown out), their weaknesses, and their room numbers down. Being that he treasured his family far more than these people, Kenji was nowhere near willing to give up any information that would give away their location. People still held grudges about the Battousai. Kenji was suddenly grateful for his brown hair; if he had been born with his father's red mane, he would have been in trouble in Yokohama. He would have been in trouble on the boat. It was Shinta who had been given the red hair; Kaoru had adored it, and despite Kenshin's humble attitude, he had been proud. But nearly everybody in Tokyo knew whose son Shinta was by merely looking at his red hair.

Kenji's withdrawal from the common attitude on the ship had earned him many a sneering nickname. He had been, more than once, called a tightwad and a pretty-boy, but he did his best to ignore it. The man who had groped him had been beaten to a pulp; after that, people had refrained from calling him names. Kenji was more than thankful for that.

Shaking himself from his thoughts, Kenji made his way to the door, replacing the empty space at his waist with the sword and regaining his balance with ease as he walked. For the past few days, he had prided himself for the almost catlike way in which he was able to move. He supposed that it was something he had inherited from the Battousai, Himura Kenshin. Although the relationship between the two was slightly shaky, father and son did love each other; one of the things Kenji loved about his father was the minor things he had inherited from him. Kenshin disliked using his prowess to extremes, but Kenji adored it. It was selfish, he knew... but there was a bit of a sin in failing to use the abilities he had been given.

"Mana-san?" he questioned as he reached the rail, where the girl was currently leaning as her back lifted and fell unevenly. Mana turned, attempting a weak smile; her eyes widened and she turned back to the edge, vomiting again. Kenji bit back another sigh as he stepped forward. Had there been no sneering men, he would have at least patted her back; it was little comfort for the body, but such acts of kindness would not kill him. As he caught himself thinking this, Kenji took a step back, uneager to continue the "loosening up" Yousaku had accused him of.

Mana retched again; after a moment, she seemed settled. Wiping a hand over her mouth, she managed the smile that had been interrupted by her upset stomach.

"S-sorry," she murmured. "Boats... you know..." Kenji merely nodded; this was definitely not the first time he had seen this, and he was unsure if it would be the last. She continued, "I've always been very sickly. When Chizuru-ne and I were born, they thought I would die after a month or so." She shrugged. "...People still expect me to just drop dead, but I will keep living."

"You could've fooled me," Kenji murmured as he leaned forward on the rail, ignoring all warning signs going off his in mind. Mana shot him a dark look that held a bit of humor in them, and he averted his eyes. " You are weak." But as he said it, he felt a bit of apprehension; it almost hurt to state the facts so bluntly. Mana was hardly affected, but Kenji caught the sadness that flickered through her eyes.

"Chizuru-ne is strong," she said suddenly, gazing to the shore. It was not so far away, and as Mana looked, her eyes held a look of pride. Even her posture gave hints to the happiness she experienced when thinking of her sister; she straightened a bit. It was hardly noticeable. "She always has been. When Father found that Mother couldn't have any more children, he was sad... he had always wanted a son. Chizuru-ne hated that we couldn't satisfy him, and she demanded that she be taught whatever Father had to offer."

"Your father knew how to fight?" Kenji questioned. He had been working for the patriots in the Bakamatsu, but that was not enough to cover for the lack of ability Yousaku had told him of. Mana merely smiled and gave a rare chuckle.

"No, nothing like that," she replied. "Father was almost useless with a sword. It's a wonder he got through the Bakamatsu. No, he..." She suddenly stopped, her lips going dry. Kenji watched her for a moment, fighting off the rising irritation that came with Mana's secrets. Whenever she spoke of their father and his business, she stopped, as if she had been forced into silence by some sort of trauma. It was aggravating; he had questioned Yousaku many times, but the smiling fool had merely laughed at him and told him he knew nothing of it.

"Tell me more about your sister," he finally offered, eager to abandon the subject that constantly festered in his mind. Mana's eyes lit up once again and the smile returned.

"She's strong, like I said," she murmured happily. "Stronger than any man I've met." Kenji felt a twinge of anger for being so easily beaten by a girl, but he held it back. Mana's words were twisted with her sisterly love, no doubt. But as he thought this, the girl caught the irritated look in his eyes and her smile vanished. "Not like that... she doesn't know how to use a sword, but she's still stronger than you."

"How do you know that?" Kenji suddenly challenged, angry. "You've hardly seen me fight." Mana fell silent, her hair covering her eyes. Kenji, angry with himself for snapping and with her for so easily placing him behind a girl in strength, averted his eyes.

"Chizuru-ne is more burdened than you think," Mana finally answered. Her voice carried an answering challenge. "Because she's tried to make me escape so much, she gets beaten more than me. Because she's naturally stronger than me, she's..." She fell silent, a sob mangling the words. "...she's hurt. All the time."

"Everybody is hurt," Kenji half-snapped, still struggling to deal with his emotions. "It's part of life." He knew that it sounded childish, but he could have cared less.

"People aren't meant to hurt each other," Mana snapped suddenly. "The strong, the weak... they're supposed to live together." Kenji audibly snorted. "If everybody believed that the weak are to die, then there would be no people." Her voice dropped in pitch as her face grew serious, but still held a sadness in it. "The strongest would kill everyone else with that belief. And then he would die, alone and... unloved. It's a horrible prospect." Kenji, finding that he would not gather the words to reject her ideals, merely looked away stubbornly. A silence grew between them; it mercifully stopped when a man cried out.

"We're almost in Nagoya!" he shouted, and Kenji glanced in the direction of the shore. They were nearing it, and the city around it bustled with activity as the distance between the boat and the harbor lessened. Kenji was thankful for the slowing of the boat and the dropping of the plank as the men aboard the ship hastened to move the cargo. Kenji stared as a man placed a cover over the box of kimonos; instead of partaking in the removal of the cargo, he merely grabbed Mana by the wrist and dragged her from the boat. The young Raikoji was in no place to complain; she looked overjoyed to be on firm, unmoving land again.

Kenji lost Mana in the crowd for a moment as he watched the boxes being unloaded with distaste; he would not participate in transporting the kimonos, which carried something far more harmful than fine silk. He was indignant; after his blunt announcement of his distaste for transporting drugs, Yousaku had gone along and shipped them. Arrogance... or maybe amusement. As the young Himura realized that he had lost track of his charge, he began shoving his way through the people... only to have a hand firmly grasp his arm. He turned, expecting to see an exhausted Mana, but instead found Yousaku smiling sickeningly at him.

"You'd better keep good track of her," he said smoothly. "Kyoto isn't far away. You will find a kind old man willing to give you a ride in half an hour, so make sure you get to the edge of town quickly. It will take you a few days to get to Kyoto." Then he was silent for a moment; Kenji wondered if he had left. But the final words quickly followed. "I will give you directions to the Yun-ya in Kyoto. Chi-chan is there; she thinks she escaped." Then he pressed a paper into Kenji's hand - a paper that was no-doubt going to get the young Himura and his charge into the carriage - and was gone.

Kenji bit back a threatening growl and searched for Mana; her ki flickered weakly among the mass of people. The young Himura mentally cursed the girl for her lack of distinction as he pushed his way through the crowd, traveling in the direction she had gone. As he neared her, the spark of ki he had been keeping his mind on increased into a greater form; he laced his fingers around her arm, surprising you.

"You shouldn't get lost," he half-snapped, to which Mana looked down apologetically. Before she was allowed to voice her guilt, he dragged her through the crowd, going in no particular direction. He just needed to get out, to get some fresh air. Then they would find the road leaving Nagoya, and they would happen by the "kind old man" Yousaku had promised. Kenji mentally snorted. The man would seem nice on the outside, but to be working with such a group meant he had some sort of shadow in him. The young Himura reminded himself that he too carried that shadow, if he allowed himself to work in this.

"Where are we going?"

"The edge of town," he answered. "We need to get moving as quickly as we can."

"What about provisions?" she questioned, gesturing to his back. Kenji ground his teeth as she continued. "It will be a long walk..."

"We'll find someone to give us a ride," he said, ignoring her protests. It would have been rude to demand transportation, had the person giving them a ride been innocent and unknowing. Being that this was quite the opposite kind of situation, Kenji knew that the old man would consider one thing rude: if they showed up late.

"Himura-san, my arm--"

"It's Kenji," he informed her irritably. "So drop the stupid honorifics..." _'...you remind me of Yousaku.' _He left that part out. If Mana were to realize that he had betrayed her and Chizuru, her trust in him would be torn. Guilt at the thought made Kenji grind his teeth a little more, but he said nothing. He could not afford to let them know... he would keep it a secret. It was the easiest escape route.

They reached the edge of town at the desired time; Kenji's eyes narrowed slightly as he spotted a cart, parked with an old man sitting on the seat. His face as shriveled, reminding Kenji of a tortoise. The way his mouth curved down to a point in the middle, along with the fact that he was completely bald, added to the animal-like qualities. The old man was hunkered over, smoking a cigar carelessly, and Kenji wrinkled his nose. He had never liked the stench of smoke that hung off people. It brought the unnatural thought of bodies burning to his mind... shoving away the thought, he stepped forward.

"Old man," he said as he stepped forward. Mana's protests had long-since died off, but her eyes widened as he addressed the man so informally. Kenji ignored this. "Are you headed to Kyoto?"

The old man gave him a hostile look - a look that vanished instantly when Kenji fished the paper from his sleeve and handed it to him, ignoring Mana's confused looks - and nodded. Even the way he moved his head up and down, his neck moving flexibly, reminded Kenji of a tortoise. With shaky hands, the man stood, propping one side against the seat of the cart. The hostile look in his eyes was replaced with a friendly mask. Kenji noticed a flicker of a lie - although it was nearly invisible to those who were unskilled and had not been looking for it - flash through his features as he spoke.

"There's room in the back," he croaked. His voice was toneless; a result from the long years of smoking. He jabbed a thumb towards the carriage. "Just let me get the horses..."

"Ah! Um, sir..." Mana burst in, a worried look in her eyes. "...Um... Let me help you with the horses..." The old man, however, laughed and clapped his knee as he stood shakily.

"Don't worry, little miss. I'm sure your friend will be able to help me with it; he looks nice and strong. You can make yourself comfortable in the back. Just move some of the food aside..." He trailed off as he clapped a hand on Kenji's shoulder, leading him away. Once they were out of sight, hostile looks emerged from both boy and man. They sized each other up for a moment before a dark sneer creased the tortoise's features. "So, you're the new kid."

"News travels fast," Kenji bit out in return. The man merely laughed as he turned, grabbing two pairs of reins and making his way to the stables.

"It should. This isn't some little rebellion, kid. We're a top-rant organization," the answers to his words were whinnies from the horses. Kenji remained silent as he gripped the first horse by the reigns and led him towards the door. The next words from the old man stopped him short. "You seem very comfortable with Ma-chan."

_'Why is it that everybody thinks I have that sort of interest in her?' _he thought as he rolled his eyes. Instead of stating such things, he merely answered smoothly, "You seem to be, too, if the honorifics are any consolation."

"The honorifics? Ha ha, everybody calls her that." A lecherous grin broke out on his features; Kenji suppressed the urge to smack it off his face. He had seen enough of those to last a lifetime; some had been stupidly directed at _him_. "Ma-chan is cute enough, but I like Chi-chan more. Less pale and a little more filled in on the right areas."

Why the _hell _was he feeling defensive for the Chizuru girl? He hadn't properly met her. Feeling defensive for Mana was bad enough, but he had been traveling with her for a while...

"Old men like you should be looking after your _grandchildren,_" Kenji informed him tartly. "Not young women old enough to _be_ those grandchildren." The old man merely shrugged cockily.

"Don't have any. Well, I _might..._" Another disgusting sneer followed as he trailed off. "...but I'm not sure. I've had my fun, you could say."

"And I thought your age and your face would scare a woman out of her wits," Kenji replied coolly, disguising his disgust impressively. The anger that flashed through the old man's features allowed Kenji some sort of pleasure. Just how completely vain the man was disgusted him, but it allowed him every chance to sneer at him.

"What kind of relationship do you have with Ma-chan?" he spat defensively as he stopped the eager horse from moving any further. The wrinkles on his face stood out boldly as he bordered the edge of his temper. "She your whore?" Kenji was silent for a moment, partially stunned by such a thing. His shock was replaced by fury; fury not only for his own reputation, but for Mana's as well.

"No," he snapped. His free hand fell to the sakabatou at his side. The thought of a severed head, a particularly wrinkled, tortoise-like one, festered in his mind for a moment before he drew his hand away, removing the unspoken threat. It was such a pity that he did not wear a katana. The old man suddenly realized Kenji's urges and backed away, wisely falling silent.

"Whatever," he muttered as he pulled the horse towards the exit. Kenji was about to follow; a morbid thought stopped him once again, and he looked to the floor. He was not nervous about speaking rudely to the man - he had far more power than the tortoise - but more about the answer he could receive.

"Why would you assume that she's a whore?" he finally voiced dangerously. The man turned again, wearing the same sneer that Kenji had come to loathe in such a short amount of time. The horse pawed at the ground irritably as it was once again stopped.

"I was just thinking that such a thing would run in the family," he chuckled. Kenji's eyes narrowed as he thought of Chizuru. "We're not allowed to touch Ma-chan, because she's so frail... but Chi-chan is healthy. She used to scream so much when she got it, but not that she's used to it... and she knows she'll be beaten if she struggles..."

Kenji's eyes widened greatly. "You..."

"Once or twice," he sneered. "But like you said, being old..." He shrugged. "Not so easy anymore. She's a real firecracker, that Chi-cha--"

But he was cut off as Kenji released the horse and drew the sakabatou from it's sheath, slamming it forcefully into the man's stomach. The old tortoise coughed up some of his stomach bile as he fell, releasing his grip on the horse's mane. The beast gave a frightened whinny, but thankfully did nothing drastic. The other horse pawed the ground nervously, but as soon as Kenji's grip on the reigns returned, it calmed down. The young Himura strode to the door as the old man sword violently, struggling to stand. Kenji paused one last time, turning and offering a sneer that in no way matched his emotions.

"You're lucky I need that ride, old man," he hissed. "I would have broken your arms if you didn't need them for the reigns."

The old man once again wisely kept his silence as Kenji left. As he walked out into the bright light, shielding his eyes with a hand until they became accustomed to it, he realized that he would have done it without a second though. The severed head he had been thinking of... he would have done _that, _too. Maybe.

Kenji tied up the horse firmly; he had no experience with the cart, but it was simple enough for him to work out. The old man, due to Kenji's lost temper, took a bit longer to emerge than he did; the young Himura allowed a sneer to grace his lips.

"Is he all right?" Mana questioned somewhat nervously, casting a glance in the direction of the stables. Kenji nodded, his sneer merging into a casual grin. He leaned back against the front end of the cart, sighing and dropping his bag. It would be a bumpy ride, but he would be fine. The thought of the old man hacking up his stomach acid was enough to amuse him for a few hours, at least.

"He's fine," Kenji offered lazily as he shifted to find a more comfortable position. "He's probably late because he's having trouble managing the horse... I offered to help him with both of them, but he wouldn't have it." He shrugged. "Proud old man, I guess." Mana took these words without a second thought; she was so terribly naive, he noticed. She trusted him far too easily. As this thought passed through Kenji's mind, he looked away; if he were to meet her eyes, he would feel more guilt than nessescary. As the old man half walked, half staggered from the stables with the second horse in tow, Kenji found himself thinking about the Raikoji sisters more than he should have been. Gloating at the old tortoise would have been much more fun.

"Are you all right, sir?" Mana asked, this time to the man in question. The old one merely waved it off, smiling falsely as he made an excuse not unlike Kenji's. The young Himura was silent, intent on averting his eyes until they were on the road. His emotions confused him; he had often found himself mentally dropping the subject in favor of a less confusing one. Kenji was nowhere near stupid, but as his mother had told him earlier... even the most clever of men had troubles with their emotions. If the time it had taken his father to court his mother was any consolation, Kaoru's words were completely true. The way Sano had reacted to Megumi... Kenji mentally nodded. She was completely right.

xXx

"Sh-Shinta!" Kaoru croaked as she dashed forward, grabbing her son by his long locks. Shinta let out an agonized cry as he attempted to weave around people in the crowd, but was jerked back brutally by the hair. Kaoru, disregarding the staring people, leaned down and met eyes with her eleven-year-old son.

"What the _hell _is wrong with you?" she demanded, once again ignoring the reactions of the people. Kenshin let out a small sigh as he made his way past the gawking old ladies (apparently Kaoru's words had greatly affected them; he had grown used to it over the years) and placed his hands gently on her shoulders. Kaoru took no notice; she was too busy scolding Shinta, who had nearly escaped boarding the train.

"Kaoru..." Kenshin said soothingly, but she took no notice of it. Kenshin winced as she continued to berate their son. Ai, who was waiting at the door with Shinya, fidgeted for a moment. The bustling sounds of people boarding the train still continued, but many people had silenced themselves in order to watch Kaoru's screaming. The wife of Kenshin Himura cared not for their opinions, it seemed.

"I don't wanna board the train!" Shinta snapped. "The Rooster said trains were haunted." Kenshin suppressed a sigh; it was a horrible lie. Shinta was far too daring, and his ego was far too large, to let something so silly as the word "haunted" to deter him. Kenshin could easily pick a time from the past when Shinta had run off to a "haunted dojo" in order to fullfill the expectations of his friends; once, much to his parents shock, he had taken a bet to go to a graveyard. Apparently, he had been told to stick a knife next to a gravestone to indicate that he had gone. Shinta had, instead, stuck the knife in and continued. The man whose grave he had been on had been very much hated by the children; he had died of old age, but the troublemakers of the down had decided that it was running away. Kaoru had been mortified when her son had returned very, very late. After questioning, he had bluntly told his parents that he had danced on the grave of the old man... and, in addition to that, he had spat on the headstone.

Shinta had, despite his age (eight years old), been spanked severely by Kaoru, who was not one to spank her children. She preferred the bokken.

"Shinta," Kenshin murmured as he brought his son to his feet, smiling nervously towards the crowd. "Did you make a commitment in Tokyo? We have to get on the train if we want to go to the festival..."

Shinta fell silent, biting his lip and glancing towards his mother. Kaoru planted her hands on her hips and glared at him levelly. Finally, he relented, dropping the nervous act and rolling his eyes. There was no beating his father when it came to keeping a lie.

"It's that Aoshi," he said, rudely failing to use an honorific. Kaoru rolled her eyes and he continued. "The old Buddha will ruin the whole trip. Why did you have to have us stay at the Aoiya?" Kenshin sighed and gently but firmly pulled his son along as Kaoru helped Ai with her belongings. Shinta, now showing no worries over merely boarding a train but obviously having problems with the thought of confronting Aoshi, climbed aboard quickly.

"I wonder how Aoko-kun is doing?" Kaoru mused as she looked out the window, eager to start a conversation. All but Kenshin ignored her; Ai was too busy looking out the window, obviously ignoring Shinya, and Shinta was snoring away lazily where he sat. The ride between Kyoto and Tokyo would take hours; sleep was probably the best course of action. The Himura parents conversed casually, going from things like Misao's family to Tsubame's pregnancy. One thing they danced around was the subject of Kenji; it was not for their own sakes that they did this, but for the sakes of Ai and Shinya. An unusual silence had settled between them, and Ai seemed to radiate coldness towards Shinya. The young Myogin was at a loss for what to do, and it seemed that only Kaoru knew how to handle it. Shinya had gone to her for help, but she had kindly rejected his plea, telling him to watch and wait. _'We women need our time alone,' _she had told him with a reassuring smile.

And that had been that. Shinya trusted Kaoru's word - the trust stemmed from the long-time friendship that had been established between the two families. But the directions were almost impossible to follow. '_Leave Ai alone?' _he thought miserably. How long was that going to take? What if their friendship was scarred forever? He shook his head furiously, shoving such thoughts away; he didn't want to think like that. Shinya had been teased by both his father and Shinta about his fondness for the daughter of the Himuras many times, but he had forced himself to deny each and every one of them. He had been so scared of shattering the friendship he had worked so hard to build... to destroy whatever fondness she may have had for him.

Shinya had done nothing to further their friendship - they were only children, but he had planned... no, dreamed, that she would have felt the same way about him - and he had still managed to shatter their friendship.

All thanks to that damn _Kenji._

As soon as he thought of it, Shinya shoved the thought from his mind. Ever since Ai had run out on him in the market, he had been working to improve his mental picture of Kenji, but to no avail. The hatred he had felt for Kenji - a hatred that had been sparked and inflamed when he had left - still remained. He could not forgive him for running out on his family. And under the guise of training, no less. Even the thought of Kenji's crimes caused Shinya to bury his fingernails into his palms to an almost painful degree. Kenshin, observant as always, blinked towards him questioningly.

"Shinya-kun? Something wrong?" Shinya shook his head stubbornly, standing abruptly.

"I need to go to the bathroom," he muttered before stumbling from the cabin. All pairs of eyes - save two, for one pair was closed in sleep and another was averting the situation by looking out the window - watched as he retreated down the hall, a mere shadow against the glass of the window.

"Shinya-kun is very much like Yahiko," Kenshin said, smiling. "So stubborn and unwilling to show his feelings."

"I know a few of those people," Kaoru said, grinning as she poked his shoulder playfully. Kenshin merely "oro"ed and dropped the subject. Ai looked away; she didn't want her family to see the struggle going on within her eyes. She could mask her ki so her father wouldn't notice - it was one of the few abilities she had inherited from the Battousai - but Kenshin didn't need her ki to see her emotions. Like her mother, Ai tended to show her emotions through her eyes. There was no denying it. Kenshin was silent for a moment, staring at the trunk seated over Ai's head. He then met his daughter's eyes inquiringly.

"Ai, I think you forgot your knapsack in the train lobby." Ai blinked, then glanced up and realized that her bag was indeed missing. Standing silently, she walked toward the door and slid it open, closing it behind her. Kaoru shot an accusing look towards Kenshin, tinted with a smile. Kenshin smiled back innocently.

"Shinya-kun really likes Ai," she said teasingly, watching as he battled with two emotions: the fatherly protection that came with having a daughter, and the justice that he felt must be done to Shinya. Finally, he merely shrugged.

"They're children," he said, dancing around the subject. "Once he starts seriously liking her - _if _he does - he can see what a great father the Hitokiri Battousai makes." Kaoru tweaked his nose playfully.

"I've never seen you compliment yourself," she grinned. "But there's no 'if', Kenshin... Shinya's got a serious case of puppy-love, and I think it'll turn out to be something more."

"...All in good time," Kenshin finally murmured, once again avoiding the subject.

And that was that.

xXx

The bathrooms were, to be frank, disgusting. The basics were that you plunked your rear down on a bowl, did your thing, and then pulled a lever... to find that your business would be left on the train-tracks for all to see. That, along with the fact that hygiene itself had been thrown out the window, disgusted Shinya. As soon as he had gotten over the disgust of seeing his crap fall out the bottom of the train, he had dashed from the room, worried that the smell might have stuck.

It was a stupid move; he crashed right into an unsuspecting Ai, who, having already been sporting a bag that was a bit large for her, toppled over under his weight. Shinya found himself in a rather unforgiving position - on top of Ai, who was moaning in pain underneath him - and immediately rearranged himself. Once he had managed to stagger to his feet, he offered her a hand, blushing furiously. Ai rejected the hand quietly, hauling the bag upwards and making to leave. Feeling fury rise within him - fury at both himself for even pondering letting her go and fury towards her for being so cold - Shinya blocked her way, weaving his hands around her so that they held the bag. Ai pulled back, a bit of challenge in her actions.

"Let me help you," he said, but it seemed like a demand. Ai coldly glared at him, a glare which he returned evenly.

"I don't need it," she replied, attempting to pull away. Shinya, easily having more strength than her, held fast. He dropped his glare and stared at her evenly; her eyes went wide and her grip slackened, but as she realized what she was doing, her grip tightened once again.

"Ai," Shinya said; there was no honorific, no restraints, and her cheeks tinted as she glared at him. Shinya continued, unfazed. "Please."

"Don't talk to me so informally," she half-snapped, but there was a hitch in her voice. She looked away when he cocked an eyebrow devilishly (although he found it did not suit his attitude at all), her blush deepening. Was it only now that she was realizing how he felt? Shinya fought the urge to roll his eyes; people said boys were fools when it came to love, but such things could be said for girls, too. Shinya struggled to catch Ai's gaze; she was constantly looking away, but he caught it and held it with his own. His eyes widened as he saw a film of water glistening, and before she could react, Shinya had pulled the bag and dropped it. He wrapped his arms around her, blushing furiously and recognizing her squeak of embarrassment. Shinya's childish instincts were to stop being silly, to pat her on the head at the most, but he could not bring himself to pull himself away. Shinta's sneering comments flashed through his mind, causing his blush to deepen; he was very much like his father. Nervous about such things, and terribly innocent.

"I'm sorry," he finally murmured, unsure of what to say. His voice stuttered within his throat. "I know you love your brother, but I..." _'...can't bring myself to stop hating him.'_ He did not voice this for fear of losing whatever moment he had gained with Ai, but she seemed to realize his unspoken words. Instead of being repulsed, instead of pulling away and coldly ignoring him as she had done before, she shook with a single sob.

"I'm s-sorry, too," she croaked. Shinya weakly released her; he looked away, the tough-guy attitude replacing his embarrassment (but failing to hide the blush completely). Ai was also silent; the coldness of the Battousai, another thing she had inherited from her father (and had perfected magnificently, if the way she used it against him was any consolation) gone from her features. She just looked terribly sad... her eyes were far too old for a girl of eleven, Shinya realized.

"Wh-when we get to Kyoto," he said, tripping over his words, "...would you like to tour the G-Gion Festival with me?" Ai was silent for a moment, her mouth opened slightly; she closed it, nodding. The blush on her cheeks was a deep shade of pink. Shinya released the breath he had been unaware of holding, then picked up the bag. Ai made a move to grab it, but he merely trudged ahead, carrying it with far more ease than she had been. Ai fell silent for a moment, then followed him. It was all she could think to do.

xXx

Hours later, when all was dark in the room, Kaoru's eyes snapped open. She glanced around; the train had slowed abruptly, waking her from her fitful sleep. Everybody was accounted for: Kenshin was still sitting beside her, his head sliding to one side as it was shifted from its position on her shoulder. Shinta was sleeping as he had been earlier. Ai and Shinya were also asleep, and Kaoru noted with an mental chuckle that the two were leaning against each other. It was really quite adorable.

_'Oooh,' _she thought irritably as she stood, careful not to wake her slumbering husband and children. Waking up for one reason was one thing... going to sleep once you needed to go to the bathroom was another thing entirely. She quietly slid the door open, shutting it slowly and quietly behind her. Kaoru became aware of how dark it was, how infinitely silent it had become as she walked through the hall, blindly making her way towards the bathroom. Her eyes took a while to adjust to the darkness; once they did, she detached herself from the supporting wall and walked hastily toward the end of the hall.

A hand fell on her shoulder, then another on a mouth to prevent any noise; Kaoru's eyes narrowed angrily as the shock subsided and she brought her teeth down on the person's hand, then elbowed him roughly in the stomach. Rather than hearing the hiss of pain she had expected, her attacker did not make a sound; instead, she felt feather-like hands reach up to her neck, pressing down swiftly and softly beneath her jaw. There was a moment of pressure, and Kaoru shuddered, falling still. A sneer, illuminated in the darkness by the attacker's white teeth, crossed the darkened face as Kaoru's full weight fell onto his arm. He turned to another figure, smiling broadly.

"Who is she?" the other man questioned, eyes narrowed. It was deep, yet firm; it could be changed to a gentle tone, if need be. The boy who had caught her with his usual pressure points kept his smile up; the other man snorted audibly. "Well?"

"Himura-san's mother," Yousaku answered brightly, yet silently as he strode forward, his feet making no sound as he crossed the hall.

"How did you find out about the kid's family?"

"It's really no big secret," the boy said, shrugging. "Himura-san should have given me an alias... either he hasn't, or he's unintentionally endangered an uninvolved family."

"If he _is _this woman's son... then he is also the son of the Hitokiri Battousai..."

Yousaku's smile widened, closing his eyes as he propped Kaoru against him in a more comfortable position. Kenji's aggravated expression, cold and unwilling to reach out to anyone in particular, flashed through his mind as he nodded brightly.

"Himura-san has talent," he said softly. "But he needs to be trained. If he doesn't, all that raw talent will go to waste... along with those eyes of his," his own green eyes narrowed slightly, as if in thought. The usual pattern of his mouth did not falter. "...If our information about the Hitokiri Battousai is correct, then amber eyes are a warning... a warning of the monster inside Himura-san."

"A monster?" A chuckle followed this incredeous question. "The Battousai was a monster, yes. Is this how he atones for the sins of the past?" A dark hand reached out, running long-nailed fingers over Kaoru's pale face. She made no movement whatsoever; Yousaku had increased the blood-flow to her brain, giving her body the impression that it needed less. The result had been Kaoru's loss of consciousness before her body knew what was happening. She would not be waking for a while. "By forgetting it all? A wife, and kids. More than this 'Kenji' I keep hearing about."

"There are three children in the train compartment they are using," Yousaku supplied. "Two boys and a girl... although one boy looks nothing like her or the Battousai," when he mentioned Kaoru, he looked down to her as if gesturing. The other man merely nodded, then a silence descended upon them. Yousaku laughed nervously; it seemed to ring throughout the whole train. The other man rolled his eyes. "What will we be doing with Himura-san's mother?"

"Leave her," the other man mumbled. "They can think she fell down on her way back to the bathroom, for all I care." Yousaku nodded, gently placing the woman down on the floor, propping her up against the wall. "Let's get back to our compartment. We'll be stopping in Kyoto in a few hours." Yousaku nodded once again, obediently following the man.

"I suppose you don't want Kagami-sama knowing about this?"

"Kagami? No, it's best if you don't let him know of any connections with me."

As the two were enveloped by darkness, Yousaku turned, his instincts screaming at him; he caught site of the Battousai, staring at him with those wide, pathetic eyes. Despite his numerous smiles, despite his unwavering simplistic attitude, he truly loathed those eyes. There was no sign of a killer within them; no fierce amber. The only thing within those eyes was the innocence of an ordinary man, signified by the amethyst hue most people would find beautiful. They disgusted him.

Yousaku very much preferred Kenji's amber eyes... the eyes presented in the heat of battle, the eyes that were called forth by no particular threat to anyone around him. If Kenshin had ever shown the eyes of a killer, it had been for someone else... someone else, or something from the past. Kenji himself did not realize the gift he carried with the monster inside him. The monster that was the Hitokiri Battousai.

Yousaku allowed a sneer to destroy his smile as he waved casually back to Kenshin, who made an attempt to rush forward, but instead stopped when he found Kaoru propped up against her respective wall. The Battousai's strength had been greater than Yousaku's, at least at one point... now, the man was crippled without his original fighting style, left only to rough sparring on the occasion. His slim frame had stolen Hiten Mitsurugi for him... would it do the same for Kenji? Yousaku shrugged to himself. It depended on Kenji's loyalties in the end... if he chose to pledge his loyalty to Yousaku's group, then they would find a way to make his body eternally strong. There would be no chances of losing strength due to something inherited, something like size. But if Kenji chose to abandon him... the sneer curled Yousaku's lip again. Kenji would die, and it would be by his hand.

"Killing Himura-san would be a shame, wouldn't it?" he laughed. The other man merely snorted again. Yousaku continued to talk as the train creaked back into motion, having been slowed in the first place by the people it had picked up in Nagoya. It was only a matter of hours until they reached Kyoto. "But I wouldn't mind killing his mother and father... those children, too." Another laugh. "They're all such fools, failing to recognize Himura-san's true strength."

"They either don't recognize it," his master replied coolly, "or they do, and they ignore it."

"I suppose so," Yousaku answered cheerfully, gazing out to the darkness. It would soon be marred by the bleeding dawn; cracks of sunlight were already beginning to edge over the horizon. As Yousaku thought of Himura Kenji's true strength, a strength that merely needed to be polished, he thought about how fun it would be...

...if that boy were to make the sky bleed.

xXx

They stood in front of the Yun-ya, and Kenji watched the tortoise man leave with a glare. Were he presented the chance, he would throttle the man. There was no questioning it. But as Mana stretched her limbs wearily, sighing in exhaustion, Kenji found his mind drifting off to other things. He had not been presented with a room number, but apparently, Mana was supposed to be able to find her sister.

As if.

Kenji slid the door open and entered the inn after Mana, taking in his surroundings. They had not entered Kyoto long ago; about an hour, he supposed. Kenji could not shake off the excitement that filled him when he glanced around the city, drinking in the sites of the streets... the streets that had once run thick with blood. Although Kenji hated himself for it, the thought of the city plunging itself back into the Bakamatsu excited him. Had his father ever known this, he would have scolded him, would have told him that he had made a mistake in fighting... But none of this mattered to Kenji. He merely let his father's words pass through his ears, but he never took any meaning from them. He needed none.

The innkeeper did not question them as they came in. He was a scrawny man with something of a rat-like look to him. His head was sparsely covered with thin, mousy hair, and his teeth were a bit long. His face was sunken in around the cheeks, and his hands shook as he moved. Kenji noted his long, yellow fingernails with distaste. As Kenji moved forward to explain the situation (Yousaku had given him no means of telling this innkeeper that he was under their employment), the innkeeper glanced behind him, his eyes widening when he saw Mana. Before Kenji was allowed to speak, he fished a room number from beneath his desk and set it on the counter.

"One of the best," he said in a high-pitched voice. He leaned forward, whispering, "Only the best for our little Ma-chan." Kenji rolled his eyes and drew back, taking the room number with them. The innkeeper, failing to notice the young Himura's obvious distaste, continued. "It's a suite consisting of four rooms: Ma-chan's room, Chi-chan's room, a bathroom, and a dining room. You'll be provided with three meals a day. Here's the card to your room." The young Himura resisted the urge to question their reasons for giving different rooms, but he was slightly glad for his own place. He was getting sick of the lecherous sneers he received from the other men upon emerging from a room with Mana.

"Thank you," Kenji managed as he turned from the desk. He would speak formally, but he would never stoop to bowing; not to these people. The thought of having become just as low as them sent waves of guilt and shame through him, but he did his best to ignore it. He glanced at the card and walked through the hall, with Mana in tow. They were silent for a while as Kenji glanced to the rooms to confirm their numbers, but found nothing. It was only when Mana inhaled sharply that Kenji registered a presence other than theirs.

"Ah... Mana-ne..." A bold voice, yet all the same feminine, murmured. Kenji looked ahead. Mana did likewise, but her eyes were wide, her mouth agape.

A young woman that was no older than Mana stood before them, with one hand propped against the door. Kenji found himself thinking of his mother; she wore her hair out long, like her sister, but there was a boldness to her facial features that amazed him. Her eyes were deeper in their blue shade than Mana's, but not quite as deep as Kaoru's. Her skin, although pale, was nowhere near as ashen-colored as Mana's. There was a healthy shine to her brown hair, one that was hard to find in her sister's. The tortoise's words came to Kenji unbidden, and before he could control himself, he looked at her up-to-down. She was nowhere near fat, but neither was she as thin as some girls he had seen. The kimono she wore bound more of her curves strictly to the sides; almost too strictly. Most women preferred to flaunt such things, if only subtly. Chizuru's kimono, a yellow one that was patterned with orange and crimson maple leaves, seemed a bit long for her and showed no specific curves.

Before Kenji could speak, Mana ran past him, dropping her bag in the process; Kenji picked it up as he watched the sisters embrace. As he observed them, the difference in strength between the two of them became almost painfully obvious. Chizuru was just slightly taller than her sister, but the way she embraced her conveyed her will to protect, while Mana looked weak in comparison. Kenji was in no way insulting the smaller of the two sisters; it was just the obvious truth. He was once again interrupted in his attempt to speak as Chizuru pushed away slowly, her eyes wide with worry.

"Why are you here?" she hissed. "I thought you were leaving Japan! That's what I told you to do." Although she was scolding, the tone she used was gentle. It seemed almost motherly. Mana averted her eyes to the floor, gathering her fists together.

"I... I couldn't," she murmured. "I couldn't just run away with my tail between my legs, Chizuru-ne. If we're going to escape," she had lowered her voice, despite the fact that Kenji was completely aware of their escape attempts, "we're going to do it together." She then straightened, glancing back at Kenji. Before formal introductions were to be made, Chizuru stepped forward, eyes wide.

"It's..." She trailed off for a moment, then her eyes narrowed angrily. "It's you!"

"You know Hi-... Kenji-san?" Mana's eyes were full of confusion as she spoke. Whatever affection that had been on Chizuru's face vanished; she regarded Kenji with a furious glare. Her fist shook at her side, but she made no movements. Mana prodded her sister gently. "Chizuru-ne?"

"Mana!" Chizuru demanded, although the anger she showed towards her sister was in no way like the fury she offered Kenji. "Why the _hell _is he here?" Mana whimpered at Chizuru's language; Kenji quirked a brow, an unbidden sneer forming on his lips.

"I'm Mana-san's guard," he retorted coldly, denying Mana the chance to reply for him. "I'm here because I want to protect her from the people that are after you." The lie nagged at his mind, and he dismissed it with some difficulty. Chizuru leveled him with a glare, her chin jutting out unconsciously. Kenji felt his own anger rise at the action; he barely suppressed it.

"So you're going from letting us get carried off," she drawled, and Mana's eyes widened, "to protecting us? Wow. What a contradiction." Kenji's eyes narrowed angrily as her sarcasm made her thoughts known. She found him a liar and a "bastard", while he found her psychotic, yet very sarcastic and possibly quite clever. The two met with a glare, while Mana, who was quite disoriented from having made no progress in her attempt to calm the two, bumbled incoherently with her words. Chizuru's chin retained the stubborn position it had brought forth. Kenji, suddenly hit with the realization of his childish actions and knowing perfectly well that this girl was capable of holding such an argument for a very long time, sighed and looked away.

"This is the suite, then," he murmured as he brushed past an indignant Chizuru and entered the room. As the innkeeper had said, it was very well furnished; Kenji could not remember having lived in better conditions. Although the inn itself was set on ground level, the view from the window overlooked a cliff, showing off the rest of Kyoto. The bamboo mats on the floor were clean and polished until they shone; Kenji made a mental note to remove his sandals every time he entered the suite. Plants decorated some of the corners of the room, ranging from beautiful, exotic flowers to mere ferns.

Mana and Chizuru, finding it uncomfortable to be sleeping in different rooms, hauled one of the futons into Chizuru's room. When Kenji gave her a puzzled look, Mana merely shrugged, murmuring that sleeping in her sister's room was much more comfortable than being alone. He only saw the logic of it once he saw Chizuru's room; it was messy, disoriented, and completely without justice to the magnificence of the suite. Kenji felt a twinge of jealousy; he would not be sharing the suite, and yet he would have treated it much better. He noted the futon lying unfolded in the middle of the room. She had neglected to fold it.

It was when Chizuru was showing her sister around the room, pointing towards various items including books and childish toys, that he noticed the ugly bruise on her wrist; it had been covered by the kimono earlier, but the way she had stretched her arms had made it noticeable. Kenji's eyes widened as the purple, green, and brown blotch lengthened along with the fall of her sleeve. Had he been more blunt, he would have reached over and pulled it up to her shoulder to see the extent of it, but he refrained from such actions. The last thing he wanted was an accusation of being a pervert from her.

"_...Chi-chan is healthy. She used to scream so much when she got it, but not that she's used to it... and she knows she'll be beaten if she struggles..."_

Kenji's eyes widened as the old man's words hit him, and he stared at Chizuru for a moment, tearing his eyes away when she glanced at him irritably. Those bruises... she had been beaten, raped. Was Mana aware of this? As he thought of Mana's words before, claiming that her sister was stronger than him in ways that did not concern weapons, he realized that she did. How much was she beaten, and to what extent? If the bruise on her arm was any indication, it was severe, and the rape... Kenji felt shame twist in his stomach.

"...ji-san. Kenji-san," Mana repeated, and Kenji glanced over to her quickly. Chizuru openly rolled her eyes as her sister acknowledged him, and Kenji bit back a growl. He had hardly known this girl for five minutes, and he was already behaving childishly around her. Mana continued, "You're not sleeping here?"

"No," Kenji said as he turned towards the door. "I'm one room down."

"You can stay here," Mana offered, a plead in her voice. "There's an extra room, now that I'm sharing with Chizuru-ne..."

"No, thank you," Kenji answered. He grabbed his knapsack off the floor, pushing the door open. "If you have any problems, don't hesitate to call me," he murmured, and for once, he felt as if he was willing to be true to those words. Chizuru laughed out loud, and Kenji glanced back at her, narrowing his eyes angrily.

"Sure, Mom," she sneered, to which he suppressed another growl. There was something about this girl that got his temper to rise, and she wasn't even over-exerting herself with her words. Had any other person said it, he would have ignored it irritably. As Kenji slid the door shut behind him, he caught fragments of her last sentence: "...How did you manage to survive with such a pretty-boy, Mana?"

Kenji ground his teeth as he stalked to his room, and, noting his meager surroundings with distaste, slid the door shut behind him.

_to be continued..._

_A/N: GAH! GAH GAH GAH! I need to work on Chizuru SO much... if you guys have seen the movie Reflections (which, just for the record, I like but also really HATE at the same time... weird), Kenji is seen leaving with a girl at the end and complimenting her hair ribbon/whatever. Raikoji Chizuru is my target for Kenji... but I really want something to work between them. I don't want to throw together two characters who hate each other one moment, then love each other the next. So I'm stuck for the moment. _


	7. Naivete and Knowledge

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin.**

Kenshin watched his wife and children with weary eyes as sunlight broke over the horizon, spilling through the windows of the train and tinting their skin with a golden glow. For a moment, he allowed himself to drift in the false peace that surrounded them. It all seemed so simple, as if whatever forces looking down on him had decided that he was deserving enough to be peaceful. But as Kenshin caught site of the back of Kaoru's neck as she rolled to the side, bruised slightly with purple and brown tones, he knew that something horrible had happened... or was happening.

_'Who were they?' _he thought as the boy's smiling face appeared in his mind. Had he not the pale hair and deep green eyes of a foreigner, Kenshin would have easily matched him with Soujiro; their smiles were so alike, their emotions so masterfully hidden. Thoughts of Soujiro brought forth thoughts of Shishio, and more. The former rurouni shook his head as if to banish the thoughts, but his efforts were in vain. There had been another man in the car, but Kenshin had just barely tracked his ki, for it was hidden almost masterfully. But that man had been cloaked in shadows, his features unreadable.

Kaoru let out a small moan, brought on most likely by the pain of the forced sleep she had been put into; Kenshin's eyes narrowed as he shifted her into a more comfortable position. His wife let out a small sigh of approval as she shifted her head unconsciously into the crook of his neck. Had this been a more pleasurable situation, Kenshin would have allowed himself a smile. Kaoru's comfort was short lived; her brow furrowed and she bit her lip, letting out another quiet moan. Kenshin traced the place in which she had been struck, under the end of her jawbone and a bit beneath the ear. The bruise was fading rapidly - it would be difficult to see in a matter of hours - but it did nothing to change the fact that she could have been hurt.

Could have been. Kenshin bit back the unnatural growl that threatened to break free of his throat as he thought of the possibilities. That boy, had he been willing, could have killed her. The former rurouni felt not only anger for the light-haired youth, but also for himself. He had so easily let her fall under danger's shadow. He had awakened upon noticing her absence, but upon silently checking on her and realizing that all she intended to do was go to the bathroom, he had dismissed it as nothing. But after feeling the ki of two newcomers - newcomers whose intentions were nowhere near innocent - he had stalked back through the darkened halls with the catlike silence that hitokiri were known for. Once he had seen Kaoru's frame slump to the floor, he had panicked, and had rushed to her... to find that she was completely unharmed, save for the tender spot beneath her jaw. He had then prepared to face her attackers, with or without a weapon, but all he had seen was the light-haired boy retreat after giving him a sickening smile.

"Kenshin?" He was shaken from his thoughts as Kaoru murmured against his shoulder, her eyes fluttering as the sleep cleared from them. Kenshin adopted his usual smile and squeezed her shoulder slightly, allowing his head to rest atop hers.

"Good morning," he murmured, but his greetings were not mutual. Kaoru pulled away suddenly, her eyes urgent and fearful. He dropped the smile, realizing that she could very easily remember what had happened only hours before.

"That boy..." she began, then her hands flew to her throat; she bit her lip as she sealed the pain inside her mouth, refusing to make it known. Kenshin suppressed the surge of anger that flew through him.

"Gone," he answered simply. Kaoru's eyes, which had been wide with confusion and a little fear, flashed with anger as he fingers balled into a fist. Kenshin allowed himself a small smile, but it was short lived.

"What did I... Why did he..." Her questions trailed off, unasked and unanswered, but her husband had exactly those questions in mind. What had Kaoru done to receive such a punishment? Why had the boy attacked her in the first place? Although it seemed that these questions tied into each other, it did not matter. What mattered was that it had happened. Kenshin was nowhere near satisfied with that answer.

"Did he say anything to you, Kaoru?" he asked, to which she shook her head furiously. Kenshin, unsatisfied with that answer, pressed further. "Nothing about a grudge against the Himuras... a grudge against the Battousai?" Kaoru's eyes flashed again as he spoke; he never dared to wonder if she had done something wrong. Every bad thing that had happened to them, according to him, was his fault. He never allowed for the possibility that she may have done something wrong. It almost pained her, the way he treated her as if she were so innocent. Suppressing each one of these thoughts, she shook her head again.

"I was just going to the bathroom," she murmured, "when he came up behind me and grabbed me... I got him once, but he didn't seem to notice. Then he put me under." She sighed, blowing her bangs out of her eyes irritably. She fidgeted suddenly; Kenshin sighed as she stood, making towards the door. "Now that I think about it, I really, really need that bathroom break _now._" Her husband stood along with her and followed, closing the door securely behind him; Kaoru glared. "I think I can manage going to the bathroom."

"You thought that last night, too," Kenshin nearly drawled as he took her arm, leading her speedily towards the restroom as he ignored her protesting squeaks. "You aren't going anywhere without me for a while."

"Wh-what about Ai-chan and Shinta?" she blurted. "Shinya, too--!"

"That's why we're going fast," he replied with an innocent smile. "Sano and Megumi-dono are only a cabin or two down, anyway. I trust Sano enough." In reply, Kaoru grumbled something about Sano having a more comfortable night than usual, locked in a compartment with the female doctor. Kenshin let it slide with a smile. As the two walked down the hall in silence, their thoughts could have very well been the same:

_'Something strange is happening.'_

xXx

Kenji, much to his surprise and chagrin, found himself awakening to giggles. Biting back a grown, he stood - his joints ached less than they had earlier, being much more accustomed to sleeping while sitting - and slid the door open with one hand, while using the other to comb through his hair. There really was no point, but it was a force of habit; while living at the Kamiya Dojo, he had always used a futon. Having long hair had always been something he had enjoyed (despite the rare "sissy-boy" comment from Shinta), but it was terribly hard to take care of. The young Himura merely kept it nice enough to keep out of the way.

When he opened the door and peered into the hall, Kenji was mildly surprised to see Mana running about, sleeping yukata covering her sickly frame. His eyes widened at the energy she emitted; it seemed as though she were a completely different person than the weak, pathetic girl that had run into him at the market. Kenji's eyes narrowed at the thought of how Chizuru had been so very alike to her sister, yet so very different. He had met the sisters in a similar fashion, if anything. Both had been drugged to the point of exhaustion. And, whether he liked it or not, he was both assisting and abandoning them. Another pang of guilt flooded through his body; he banished it quickly, loathed to let it linger.

"Mana-ne, don't run around so much!" Chizuru's voice echoed from their suite, and she followed soon after, clad in her own sleeping yukata. She ran forward - the young Himura mentally noted that she carried herself with much more ease than her sister did - and grabbed Mana's sleeve tightly, her brow furrowed. She was every inch the older sister, despite the fact that she was probably only minutes older than the other girl. "You're not up to running! You still need rest!"

"I'm fine, Chizu-ne," Mana assured her, smiling brightly despite her scolding. The smile was another rare thing that Kenji doubted she would do, were her sister absent. "I'm feeling very strong today... I think I'll be able to walk around outside some more." She looked to Kenji, eyes bright and pleading. "Will you come, Himu--... Kenji-kun?" Had Kenji the actual choice, he would have declined. But his current occupation and situation did not allow for him to leave either sister alone, and he nodded, shielding the disappointment in his eyes with his bangs. Mana took no notice, but Chizuru's eyes flashed as she caught the resentment in his.

"You don't have to come," she said airily, attempting to meet his eyes. Kenji averted them stubbornly. She continued, unfazed. "We don't need you." The coldness in which she said this surprised him; it reminded him of himself. Kenji bit back an angry retort, harnessing his tongue and forcing it to give a cool, superior reply.

"The last time I saw you, you were pretty pathetic," he said, to which she bristled. Kenji reveled in the fact that he had put a dent in her pride. "What if it happens again? Besides, Mana-san invited me." He said the last bit so bluntly, as if Mana were not allowed to go back on her decision. The uninvolved girl said nothing. Instead, she glanced from Kenji to Chizuru and back, her eyes confused and worried. Chizuru's hands balled into fists, shaking at her sides, and her eyes fell to the floor. The young Himura immediately noticed the change in her ki; it had gone from merely irritated to serious, bordering... nostalgia? That was it. Despite the emotions tracing through this unseeable force, Chizuru held it in with amazing ability. Her face did not so much as twitch.

"Last time was... different," she muttered hotly. "I'm not going to let it happen again." Kenji, who had been planning on such an answer and had been readying himself to retort, found that his tongue had abandoned him. All he could do was attempt to return her glare as they regarded each other fiercely, each one unwilling to withdraw from the unspoken battle between their eyes. It lasted until Mana, who had been mustering up her courage, stepped in. She placed a hand on Chizuru's shoulder, to which her sister glanced at her questioningly.

"I-if we want to do anything together," she managed, after stuttering a bit first, "we're going to have to get along. Kenji-kun, could you try not to aggravate my sister so much?"

"'Aggravate'?" Kenji snapped, infuriated that she would blame him first. It was a childish anger that he could not control. "She... she started it!" As much as he loathed to say it (for it was the most childish saying of all), he knew it was true, and it was the easiest way to get that point across. But when he saw Mana's wide eyes, partnered with Chizuru's quirked brow, he knew that his case was hopeless. There was no denying the fact that he had been pulled into an argument. Mana and Chizuru turned back to their suite to change into more fitting clothes; Chizuru turned when Mana had left the area, her blue eyes meeting with Kenji's fiercely once again.

"Why don't you listen to Mana-ne, hmm? Be a good little boy while we're out in public." The sarcasm in her voice had the hairs on Kenji's neck standing on end; he bit back the growl in his throat with a bit of a struggle. With any other person, even to one of his family members, he would have had the aloofness he prided himself for. But during a verbal fight with this girl, who was so insignificant and unknown to him, he lost whatever control he would have had. If anyone was growing aggravated, it was him.

Kenji stalked back to his room, resisting the urge to slam the door loudly behind him, and dove to his knapsack. He sorted through a few different shirts - a few was all he had - and pulled a green one out, eyeing it skeptically. As much as he hated to be called picky or a pretty boy, what he hated more was to wear anything to the point in which it stank; he had experienced this to a mortifying degree when on the boat. The body odor had been headache-inducing. And, although he doubted he would ever be as comfortable as his father when it came to washing things, he was fairly good at cleaning. Kenji's pride prevented him from making this known.

Each of his hakama were the same: a darker shade of grey, but he liked it that way. If the fabric became worn or dirty, it hardly showed. He had a few different colors of gi, and the one he chose to wear out was the dark green. Tying the knot of his hakama with swift, agile fingers, Kenji placed the sakabatou at his waist and slid the door open once again. He bit down on his jaw in an attempt to halt any further reaction to Chizuru's cheek.

Waiting for girls, Kenji quickly realized, was a chore. Back at home, Kaoru had never taken this much time to primp herself. Whenever he had been waiting for his mother, she had dressed quickly; she was experienced with both men's and woman's clothes. Ai had inherited her mother's swift fingers, and had only taken time when she had been learning how to put kimonos on. Kaoru had adored dressing her daughter up, and had experimented hundreds of times. Ai had come out looking like something of a Chinese doll, and Shinya Myogin, who had been visiting one time, had barely allowed a sentence to pass his lips without stuttering. Kenji snorted at the thought.

But when Chizuru and Mana appeared, dressed in fairly nice kimonos, Kenji bit back the urge to scold them for taking so long. Mana, as her quiet and soft-hearted attitude demanded, wore deep tones of blue patterned with a few flowers. Chizuru wore a brilliant shade of red with a lighter shade of butterflies edging the fabric. The young Himura looked away quickly when the harsher of the Raikoji sisters caught his glances; he knew, without having to look, that she was either sneering at him or raising an eyebrow in disgust. The words she spoke next were, as always, laced with sarcasm. But Kenji could detect an amused note within them.

"It's a good thing you went with blue, Mana-ne," she said, and the young Himura looked up. Her eyes were laughing. "If you had picked the green, you'd look like a perfect pair with him." Then, ignoring her sister's protesting stammers, she strode out into the sunlight and stretched her shoulders. Kenji rose an eyebrow; the manner in which she carried herself was terribly unladylike. Even the steps she took were far too big for the kimono she wore. The lack of space for her legs caused her to walk with something of a stagger. She didn't even bother to tie up her long hair (Mana's was pulled back in a bun with a thin, white ribbon), which was expected of most women while they were in public. She was being too bold-

Kenji stopped himself. The fact that she had grown up with a father who had obviously wanted a son - and after that, many lecherous men with which she had not escaped unscathed - compensated for her behavior. Even as he thought of it, he realized that her clothes were less feminine than Mana's. While alike in the way they were made, the color and the difference in the complexity of the way Chizuru wore hers signified that she could have cared less about it. While not attracted by it, he could not hate her for it. It made her easier to be around than most women, he realized. Despite the fact that he loathed her and her ability to shatter his composure, she was comforting to be around. The thought irritated him.

"Where are we going, Kenji-kun?" Mana asked. Kenji blinked. So _he _was suddenly the leader? But the site of their eyes - Mana's expectation and Chizuru's irritation - he realized that he liked the idea.

"I'm looking for a place called the Aoi-ya," he said, searching their features for any sign of recognition. He found none, and he bit back a sigh. Finding the inn would take some time, and then he would have to put up with Misao's questioning... "I have... my family has friends there," he said once he saw the confusion in their eyes. "I was going to drop off some messages from my parents."

"You have parents, Kenji-kun?" Mana questioned, eyes wide. Kenji nodded, slightly angry with himself for so easily giving that information away while lying to them. The young Raikoji persisted. "Did you come to Kyoto just to deliver the messages?"

"He wouldn't do that," Chizuru interjected before Kenji was allowed to lie again. "His family could just as easily send the letter by train or something." Mana completely missed his glare in her sister's direction as she nodded in agreement. Chizuru continued. "Why would he be wondering around, offering to bodyguard complete strangers? I bet he's a thief or something." Mana's eyes widened in mortification.

"A-ah! K-Kenji-kun, would you really...? No! H-he's nice and kind and generous!" As she spoke, her face grew red and her hands shook. The young man in question tried to interject, to make the fact that he was standing right there as they spoke about him known, but the sisters were engrossed in their conversation.

"I don't know, Mana-ne. One minute, you think you've met a nice guy who you can trust, and the next minute... bam! Just like that, you've lost all your money and valuables to him." The matter-of-fact tone in which she spoke suggested that she was not being entirely serious about the situation; had she been, she would have shown signs of the abuse many strangers had given her. Kenji watched her face for these signs, but all he could see was the way in which she knitted her brows together, the tightening of her jaw as she held in her laughter. She showed no signs of the pain she had gone through.

Wait. Kenji blinked as a mortifying thought came to him. What if she did it intentionally...? If she really was what they called her? He banished the thought as he remembered the bruises he had seen on her arm, and the way in which the old tortoise-man had spoken about her. She fought against it. This happy act was a facade she put on for the sake of her little sister.

For a moment, Kenji almost pitied her, but he rose above the feeling with a sense of superiority. She didn't deserve his pity, and he didn't want whatever comfort she was able to give (whether she gave it intentionally or not). It would stay that way.

"I need to start looking for it," he said as Chizuru was about to playfully tease her sister again. "Finding the Aoi-ya is very... important."

"Then I suppose we should start looking," Chizuru sighed, grabbing her sister's hand and leading her forward. Kenji, who had been at the front of their group, found himself lagging behind as the young, brash Raikoji practically dragged her sister into a quick walk. Once she saw how he was lengthening his stride and quickening his pace, Chizuru sighed impatiently. "Aren't you supposed to be a wanderer? You should be used to walking." Kenji, infuriated with her scolding tone and with his own weaknesses, straightened and quickened his stride all the more until he caught up with the two of them. Mana already looked exhausted, but when she saw him staring at her almost accusingly, she too straightened and held back the fatigue that had been gnawing at her.

"Where should we start?" she asked her sister innocently. "The middle of town? There are plenty of inns there..." Chizuru shook her head, her long, brown-black hair moving in time with it.

"If it was near the middle of Kyoto, I would know it," she said. Her eyes darkened slightly as they narrowed. "I think it's best that we... that we stay away from the center." Kenji watched her from behind long, dark bangs as she continued. "There are too many people there."

So, she really _did _believe that she had escaped from Kagami. He almost felt sorry for her. She was pathetically hoping for a chance at freedom, and to do so, she planned on avoiding too many watchful eyes. Mana did not realize this; she knew much about the organization that had kidnapped them in the first place, but she retained a pure naivete about the situation altogether.

The more he watched the two, the more Kenji knew about them.

xXx

"Man, I'm bushed!" Chizuru moaned as she sat down at a kindly vendor's stall. She ran a hand through her hair, yanking it through the knots and snags. Mana, thankful for a break, sat down next to her and let out a sad sigh. For two hours, they had been searching for the Aoi-ya; they had skirted around the edge of Kyoto and had only covered a meager portion of the city altogether. Both Mana and Kenji had suggested going further into Kyoto, but Chizuru had been insistent on staying safely away from the center. She wanted nothing to do with it, but if the progress they had been making so far continued, going in would be inevitable. Kenji would drag her in if he had to.

"We're getting nowhere," he spat as he stood before them, ignoring the glances he received from the street vendor. "I don't care about your stupid paranoia when it comes to the city; I'm going in, and you are, too."

"Why do you care?" she retorted waspishly. "You don't even know us. For all I care, you can get lost." Mana stuttered pathetically, searching for a way to quell the oncoming argument, but her efforts were in vain.

"I said I would look after Mana-san," Kenji growled back. "She's been wandering around, looking for you for God-knows-how-long, and I don't think she wants to lose you again just because you're too stubborn to go into Kyoto." Chizuru's eyes narrowed dangerously; she was about to reply when the vendor, who had been rudely listening in for a while now, intervened.

"You kids looking for something?" he asked, leaning forward on the counter of his stall. He rose an eyebrow curiously. "I know Kyoto like the back of my hand."

"The Aoi-ya," Kenji answered briskly, ignoring Chizuru's protests. Recognition instantly flashed through the man's eyes, and the young Himura, had he less control, would have jumped for joy. They would finally be making progress.

After receiving directions and thanking the man, Kenji left with Mana and Chizuru in tow. Unfortunately for the Raikoji sisters, the inn _was _located around the center of Kyoto. Kenji cursed himself for so easily forgetting its location in the first place. He _had _visited Kyoto a few times before, yet those times obviously weren't enough to keep the Aoi-ya's area in his mind. Most visits had been slightly awkward to begin with; Shinomori Misao, a good friend of his parents, had taken to him with an insane giddiness that Kenji could hardly comprehend. When he had first arrived on the doorstep to the Aoi-ya, with his parents standing behind him, Misao had recognized him at first glance... and had glomped him with the energy that no woman her age should have possessed. She was nowhere near old, but Misao was an adult; even his mother refrained from the language and agility Misao used.

Then there was Aoshi. The head of the Shinomori family was, as both Kenshin and Kaoru had said before, as silent and unmoving as a stone. Kenji had ignored him at first, too busy with keeping Misao from further hugs to bother. It had only been when they had returned with Shinta and Ai that things with Aoshi had become anywhere near interesting: the younger son of the Himuras had established a one-sided rivalry with the Buddha-like man.

Misao and Aoshi had children: two, unless Misao was expecting, which was a very far-fetched idea. Kenji had met Rei once before, and then she had vanished; but he could remember enough about her to know that she was very much like her mother, yet looked very much like her father. Aoko was the exact opposite, looking like his mother and acting like Aoshi. Kenji suddenly found himself wondering if the family had been reunited. Rei's mission in China was, for all he knew from the rumors, over and done with. She should have been back in Kyoto by now.

After about half and hour of walking, Kenji was rewarded with the site of the Aoi-ya's sign hanging boldly on the front of the building. Letting out a sigh of relief, he once again quickened his pace and knocked purposefully on the door. He could have cared less if Misao felt inclined to glomp him again. He needed information on Seijuro Hiko's whereabouts, and in order to get that information, he would endure anything the Shinomoris had lined up for him.

The woman who answered the door was not Misao, as he had expected; it was a grizzled, toothless woman in her seventies (if his guesses had any merit). For a moment, both visitor and welcomer were silent, staring each other down. Kenji mentally sighed upon realizing that it was only the great hunch in the woman's back that made her slightly shorter than him. Where she able to stand up straight, she would be about a head taller than him. His stature never ceased to disappoint him.

"I... I'm here to see Shinomori Misao-san," he finally managed. Hardly any recognition flashed through the old hag's eyes, which were already filled with suspicion and disgust. Kenji immediately found himself detesting her as she did him. It was strange how he so easily had old people loathing him. "My family knows Misao-san's very well."

"Very well," the old crone murmured quietly, and Kenji's eyes widened when the quiet voice increased in volume, becoming that of a shriek in a mere matter of seconds. "Shinomori-_sama_!" The honorific at the end had a sharp ring to it, as if the old woman hated adding it on. The silence grew; Chizuru cleared her throat rudely, raising an eyebrow at Kenji. The young Himura was about to snap at her when her heard Misao's voice. He had always taken wonder at it; it was strange that such a naturally small woman would have such a mature-sounding voice.

"Geez, Mino-chan, could you cool it?" Misao appeared in the doorway, smiling openly; her eyes widened to great proportions when she beheld Kenji, with two young woman standing behind him. "K-Kenji-kun!" Before Kenji was allowed to answer, the wife of Aoshi threw womanly grace into the wind and glomped him; the young Himura felt a pang of embarrassment when Chizuru openly sniggered.

"It's been so long, Kenji-kun!" she squealed as she pulled away, grinning broadly at him. Kenji managed to smile back, albeit somewhat fakely. "How's your mom and Himura? Shinta-kun and Ai-chan? Are they with you? Somewhere here, in Kyoto? Boy, I got the letter only a while ago...!"

"Misao-san, I came here by myself," he answered, smiling weakly. The last sentence caught his attention. "My parents sent a letter...?" Misao's expression upon hearing the letter, which at first had been somewhat confused and forlorn because of Kenji's lack of family, brightened.

"Yep! Your parents are coming here for the Gion Festival. Is that why you're here, Kenji?" The young Himura's eyes widened as she mentioned his family's appearance. They were coming to Kyoto? His right hand balled into a fist as he fought to control the emotions within him. _Why? _Going to such festivals was a rare occurance for them, partially because of their overall meager income, and partially because his father wasn't overly fond of the city itself. And yet, despite these road-blocks, they had chosen to come. They were _following _him. Kenji bit back an angry growl. They were trying to keep him attached, to make him come home much more quickly than he planned. He hated the idea, and he felt an unnatural hatred towards his family for doing such a thing.

"How... nice," he finally managed through his teeth. The fact that he once again lied did not faze him; he was getting so used to it. Misao's eyes flickered with confusion, but she banished it with another smile, looking around Kenji and focusing on Mana and Chizuru.

"So! Who are these young women? Friends of yours?"

"Hardly," Chizuru answered for him, an answer which unexpectedly brought forth a laugh from Misao. The Raikoji sisters regarded the smaller woman with wide eyes as she dragged them forward, staring at them from head to toe. Once finished with her inspection, she grinned deviously at the young Himura.

"I like 'em," she said approvingly. Mana blushed and Chizuru quirked an eyebrow. "You've got good taste in girls, Kenji-kun."

"They're not my--!" he protested feebly, but Misao had already managed to grab each one of their hands and lead them inside the Aoi-ya, ignoring the disapproving glare she was getting from Mino. Kenji could only be glad for the fact that she was no longer questioning him about his family. Those questions would come, he knew, when he asked them for Seijuro's location. But he could wait.

"Aoshi-sama!" Misao cried as she ran through the halls of the Aoi-ya with three guests in tow. Each did their best to ignore the glances they were getting from the people residing in the inn. Only a few comforted Kenji; he caught site of many members of the Oniwaban group as they flew by. Misao screeched out her husband's name again, "Aoshi-samaaaa!"

"Misao," Aoshi's voice was the introduction to a rude stop as Kenji and the girls felt their speed instantly decline. It took all of the young Himura's balance to keep himself from falling back on his rear; Chizuru staggered, grabbing the wall for support. Mana, the clumsiest of the three, was not so lucky. She fell back on her butt with a cry of surprise, and her sister reached out a hand to help her up. Aoshi was not in the least fazed by what had just happened; he turned on Misao with icy eyes. "And the Battousai's son." He did not even acknowledge Chizuru or Mana's presence.

"He came to visit for a while, Aoshi-sama," Misao said, grinning broadly at her husband. Aoshi's mouth did not so much as twitch. She continued, either oblivious to his lack of concern or very used to it, "But nobody else did. Oi, Kenji-kun, why're you here anyway?" She turned confused eyes to Kenji, and the young man bit back a sigh.

"I came here on an errand," he said simply, glancing to the side to indicate that he'd rather not state his business in front of Chizuru or Mana. Aoshi's eyes narrowed while Misao's widened, but neither of them said anything. Misao finally nodded stiffly.

"How long will you be staying?" she asked suddenly. "You need a room?"

"No, thanks," he said, allowing the corners of his mouth to twitch upwards in a smile. "We have a few rooms elsewhere." Misao's cheeks puffed out - a sure sign that she was displeased with the fact that he had not gone to the Aoi-ya first for residential purposes - but she said nothing. "Chizuru-san and Mana-san had some rooms before I came to Kyoto."

"Ah," she said, smiling towards the incredeous sisters. She then glanced over to her husband, her eyes flashing with meaning. "Aoshi-sama, could you please show these young women to the dining hall? Their meals will be on the house... I want to talk to Kenji-kun." Aoshi's mouth twitched, as if he were to protest, but he retained his silence. He walked past the sisters purposefully, glancing back at them when he realized that they were not following. Mana then pursued him hesitantly; Kenji was not so lucky in Chizuru's case. She threw him an acid-like glare, her blue eyes shooting unspoken accusations at him, and then turned and left. Misao whistled once they were out of hearing range.

"That girl's got one hell of a glare," she murmured. Kenji heard something akin to admiration in her voice, but he ignored it. "She doesn't like you very much."

"Nor I her," he answered coolly, all traces of warmth gone from his voice. "Misao-san, I came here looking for information on Seijuro Hiko." Misao stopped suddenly, her eyes wide. Kenji met them almost coldly, his words blunt and bordering forceful. Realizing the unasked question, he continued smoothly. "I'm going to learn Hiten Mitsurugi."

The silence that followed, strangely, did not unnerve him. Kenji was filled with a determination that banished all worries. If Misao would not give him the information, he would get it from Okina. A sudden thought of slamming the information out of somebody - anybody - with the sakabatou caused him to blink in surprise, but nothing more. He instantly banished the notion.

"Kenji-kun, I... I don't..."

"Misao-san, I'm going to get that information," he said coolly. Something akin to anger flashed through her features, as if she hated the notion of being ordered around, but it vanished instantly. The dangerous tone of his voice banished her rage.

"Hiten Mitsurugi isn't the sword style for you," she said, a note of challenge in her voice. Kenji's eyes narrowed. "Your figure, your body altogether.. the style will slowly deteriorate your body until you can't use it at all."

"I know that," he almost snarled. "My father cannot use it anymore because of it. But he used it for eighteen years." Misao's eyes widened slightly as she realized that he had instantly calculated this, but she retained her silence. He continued. "I won't be using it that long. I plan to use it until I find a better style."

"There isn't a better style," she croaked, weakly attempting to throw him off. A sneer curled Kenji's lip.

"Oh? What about Watojutsu? The style Yukishiro Enishi used against my father," he said. His voice had lowered to a hiss. "Nearly every move made for Hiten Mitsurugi was countered by Watojustu. And as long as I refrain from using Hiten's final move too much, I'll be fine. Amakakeru Ryu no Hirameki... ha," the laugh was toneless, cold. "That was the trigger to my father's downfall, wasn't it?" Misao's answer was a reassuring silence.

"I..." She trailed off, realizing that she had no means of denying him the information. She looked down, crestfallen. "Would your father want this?"

"Why would I care about what he wants?" Kenji asked. "It's my life, not his."

"Is this why you came to Kyoto?" she suddenly snapped, glaring at him. He met her eyes indifferently and nodded. Misao looked down, her last means of turning him off the scent gone. She nodded somewhat weakly; it was strange to see the woman who was usually so full of life this crestfallen. "I... I'll get his location sometime," she mumbled. "Would you like to stay for lunch?"

"Yes," Kenji answered, his dominating air vanishing. Misao's eyes widened - had there been a flicker of amber in his eyes for a moment? She blinked, and the color was gone. Kenji turned, neglecting the manners that called for him to bow in thanks (but she was sure that he always ignored these manners) and made for the dining hall. There was a pleased smile on his lips. "Thank you for cooperating, Misao-san."

Normally, Misao would have blown up at him for such arrogance, but she was tight-lipped. Her focus was still on Kenji's eyes... she had seen them once before, but not on him. Once before, when the boy called Eiji had seen his parents strung up for all to see... Kenshin had been the one to wear such colors within his eyes. And they were not the eyes of the gentle rurouni that everyone had grown so used to.

They belonged to the Battousai.

And although that killer, by all rights, was destroyed by the rurouni many years ago...

It had been reborn in his son.

xXx

"Did you have a nice conversation with Shinomori-san?" Mana asked pleasantly as she swallowed the noodles she had received from Aoshi. She was the picture of contentment. Kenji nodded, smiling; it was another thing that came with his constant lying. He was able to smile falsely... the ways in which he was like his father never ceased to amaze him. Mana nodded, oblivious to the lie, and finished her bowl of noodles. She set it down with a happy sigh. Kenji stared down at his own food; it was only when he realized the silence that his head snapped up, his eyes searching the area for the missing sister.

"Where's Chizuru-san?" he asked suddenly, straightening up. Mana, much to his surprise, giggled and pointed. Kenji's eyes flew in the direction of her hand; they widened upon seeing the other Raikoji sister, engrossed in a game with Aoko Shinomori. It was a strange thing to see Aoko amused by anything, and yet he was biting back the urge to laugh as Chizuru balanced his paper ball on the tip of her nose. She then rolled it expertly from finger to finger, pausing to spin it on her forefinger. Aoko's eyes were alight with amazement.

Kenji watched, finding himself captivated, as she transferred the ball to one of his pudgy fingers. Aoko's face was focused and determined, but the ball fell lifelessly from his grasp; he looked down sadly. Chizuru plucked the ball up and spun it once again, using her free hand to bring up the young Shinomori's chin. Kenji watched as her lips moved, speaking but making no sound as she scolded the boy for being so easily downtrodden. Aoko bit his lip, determined to keep the mask that he had inherited from his father. Chizuru grinned broadly, ruffling his hair a bit; he squirmed underneath her, attempting to watch as she effortlessly spun the ball. He then watched as she spoke to the child, instructing him as she attempted to transfer the ball to his finger again. The second time worked. Aoko watched the ball spin with amazement as Chizuru used her free hand to keep his own still.

"She loves kids," Mana said, smiling. "But she doesn't like to admit it." Kenji tore his eyes away from Chizuru's smile, nodding stiffly to the comment he really hadn't listened to. Mana continued, oblivious. "She doesn't like to tell anyone if she loves anything, unless she really trusts that person." He listened to her talk aimlessly, but he took none of the words in. He was no longer captivated; he was trying to figure out _why_ he had been taken aback in the first place. As he finally brought some of the noodles to his mouth - noodles that were slightly cold from the neglect - he kept his eyes on Chizuru and Aoko. His mind would not process correct words to compliment his feelings. He was somewhere on the paper-thin line between admiration and disgust.

Admiration slowly won over. Despite the obvious pain she had suffered - physical and emotional - she wore a mask. Had the old man neglected to tell him such things about her, Kenji would have never guessed that she had been beaten or... he halted the thought. It twisted his gut uncomfortably. She had spent many a sleepless night sobbing, escaping the hold of men who had abused her in every way possible. Although it was not a possessive anger - he hoped that it would never come to that - he felt rage for what they had done gnawing at him. No one deserved such humiliation.

He glanced down to the soup that surrounded his noodles and stopped suddenly. The color of the soup itself banished others, but when he caught site of his eyes, he knew that they were not the ordinary shade of blue he had inherited from his mother. His eyes flickered dangerously; he blinked, hoping the mirage would fade. Much to his relief, it was gone.

"Kenji-kun?"

"Hm?" He turned to see Mana, worried and confused, staring at him. She glanced down to the bowl in his hands.

"Are the noodles bad?" she asked innocently, to which he shook his head.

"It's... it's nothing," he offered her a false smile, one she took in without a second thought. She was too innocent, too trusting. It would bruise her greatly, one day. But Kenji continued with the charade he had started. "It's very good food, actually. What do you think?"

"Yes," she said as she drew a finger through her own bowl, catching the remainder of the soup on her fingertip. "I haven't had very good food in a while." Kenji's eyes widened inquiringly, but he said nothing. Prodding either of the sisters was not the best plan of action. He had known this ever since he had attempted to learn about their father. He had expected a silence to follow her words, but Mana continued, surprising him a little. "I'm very glad I met you, Kenji-kun." He stared at her for a moment, perplexed. Reading his thoughts through his eyes, she laughed nervously, blushing a bit. "Not like that. I'm just glad that Chizuru-ne and I have somebody to talk to."

"You seem pretty content with each other," he answered tonelessly. "Chizuru-san isn't too keen on keeping me." Much to his surprise, she laughed. It was a feeble-sounding one, but it was her laugh. His eyes narrowed slightly in irritation. "What?"

"She doesn't trust people easily, is all," Mana shrugged, the smile still playing on her lips. He waited for her to continue, to elaborate, but she did not. Kenji sat back and finished his lunch with a sense of irritation and confusion flooding his mind. As if searching for some sense of consolation, he glanced over to the girl in question; she was attempting to stand, but Aoko, in an unusual fit of emotion, was clinging to her kimono in an attempt to keep her. She was not growing angry with the child, as she usually did with him. Rather, she calmly removed his hands from her clothes, murmuring something reassuring. Aoko nodded, and Chizuru started in their direction. Kenji looked away.

"Done, Mana-ne?" she asked, and when Mana nodded, she smiled. She then glanced over to Kenji and openly sighed; his bowl was half-full. "Hurry it up already."

"Amuse yourself," he merely said as he slowly ate the cool noodles. Chizuru rolled her eyes, blowing her hair out of her face and smoothing it back with a hand as she picked up Mana's bowl. Kenji watched with amusement as she stomped off to the kitchen to drop off the dishes, then returned, planting her hands on her hips when she realized that he was not intent on quickening his eating. It was when Aoko, who had been watching her ever since she left him, timidly approached the three of them. He grabbed at Chizuru's kimono with a dependency that Kenji had never seen him use; Aoko peered at the young Himura from behind his "guardian". As if he didn't know him enough by now.

"What's wrong, nee-san?" he asked, looking up at her with large, innocent eyes. Kenji bit back the urge to snap at the kid; since when had he abandoned the rock-imitation of Aoshi in favor of women? It was an act, but both Raikoji sisters fell for it (the only comforting thought was that Chizuru was not so much affected as Mana). Chizuru patted him on the head, while Mana squealed as she kneeled down to his height.

"S'nothing, Aoko," Chizuru muttered, sighing. Kenji rose an eyebrow.

"No honorifics?" he asked, not because he was willing to gloat, but because he was genuinely curious. It was improper to address someone without an ending to suit their status. Kenji himself refrained from using "sama" or "dono" - they made him think too much of his father - but he rarely called people by just their first name. Chizuru stared at him quizzically.

"What's the point?" she asked, glancing away from Aoko. Her hands were still fascinated with his hair, twirling bits and ends around her forefingers until the boy in question gently protested. "They just get boring is all." There was no anger in her voice. Rather, she was calmly explaining it to him, as if he were Aoko. A child.

"You use an honorific for your sister," he put in. He knew that pursuing a topic that they disagreed on was pursuing an argument, but he couldn't resist. Chizuru once again shrugged; Kenji stared at her. Being with Aoko must have scrambled her usual temper... not that this was unwelcome. _'If only they had kids working for the organization...' _

"When are we leaving?" Chizuru asked, interrupting his thoughts. Aoko protested with a cry; the young Raikoji turned back to him, patting his head comfortingly but making no promises. She then looked back to Kenji. "Well?" There was an evident note of irritation in her voice.

"Soon," he snapped, and the little boy next to Chizuru turned a glare on him. Kenji glared back, reserving nothing for the sake of sparing the boy. Aoko tried to retain his glare - he really did - but Kenji's anger was too much for him to face, and he once again retreated behind the folds of Chizuru's kimono. The young Himura snorted.

"Don't pick on little kids, Kenji," she spat as she comforted the boy. Kenji, who had been prepared to argue, stopped short as she uttered his name with no honorific. It really _was_ improper. She could have at least spared him and added a "kun", like her sister... the only thing that could have been more uncomfortable would have been a "chan", but he doubted that she would ever use that honorific for anyone. She was too brash. "Honestly... how old are you? You should be above arguing with little kids."

"Seventeen," he spat. It was the only way he could vent without having Aoko give him another glare, which would inevitably lead to more scolding from Chizuru.

"Could've fooled me," she retorted coolly, hiding under the pretense of cleaning the boy's face. "You look like you're twelve or something."

That did it. Kenji stood stiffly, his hand itching to pull the sakabatou from its sheath and slam some manners into her - be it honorifics or insults about his stature. Mana easily noticed the warning signs as his hand traveled to the hilt, his thumb clicking it open a fraction of an inch. She stood instantly, making to stand in front of her sister and the little boy, but Chizuru drew herself up to her full height and waited, her posture completely unguarded.

"Are you going to cut me?" she hissed, keeping her voice low in order to keep other guests from noticing. Her deep, blue eyes burrowed into his. Kenji's narrowed - for a moment he had been willing to do so, but he could not find the will anymore - and he turned away, his hand abandoning its place by the sakabatou. He said nothing as he walked briskly from the room, resisting the urge to slam the door behind him. He did not bother to strain his ears; he did not want to hear the aftermath caused by his lack of control.

_'Damn her.'_

Chizuru confused him far too much for his liking. She was nowhere near as comforting as Mana - she did not make every little thing easy for him. She did not give off the purity that her sister did, but she bore no stains for him to use against her... no stains that were intentional, at least. Kenji knew he would never go so far as to mention the men who had sexually abused her. Meaning he had no way of mentally injuring her. He wanted to, and yet he didn't want to... he wanted to break her arm, and yet he knew that he would never be able to do it. It was not because of any particular skill she had; she lacked skill, if anything. Was it because of her lack of skill, then? He didn't know, and he doubted that he would be able to find out anytime soon.

Which was why he damned her and her ability to confound him.

xXx

"...right around here, in the mountains," Misao said as she pointed to a circled area on a map of Kyoto and its surrounding areas. Whatever hesitation she had shown earlier was gone, replaced by excitement that came with introducing Kenji to Kenshin's master. "That's where he was last time, and if the Oniwabanshu are half as good as they used to be, he's still there."

"Thank you, Misao-san," Kenji said as he picked up the map, folding it and sliding it into the sleeve of his kimono. He smiled gratefully towards her, hoping for some kind of reassurance, but the small woman's brow suddenly furrowed.

"I just thought... he's somewhere in his early sixties by now," she mused. "D'you think you'll get any decent training in with an old man teaching you?" A sneer tugged on Kenji's lip, but he changed it into a smile; he did not want to cause Misao any further grief. After thinking it over, he _had _been a little surprised with himself for bossing her around like that. It had been very unlike him. Pushing these thoughts aside, he nodded reassuringly.

"Misao-san, I've inherited my skills from my parents. If I have to adjust, I will." Misao simply nodded, grinning broadly. She did not take his words for egotistical, but rather for the truth. If Kaoru's letters had any merit, he had already mastered Kamiya Kasshin and was able to learn any move by just hearing about it. It was a gift... a dangerous one, but a gift all the same. And judging by Kenji's ambitions, he intended on using it to the fullest.

"So! Is there anything else the Oniwabanshu can do for you?" she asked as she sat back, grinning deviously. Her pride for the group overrode any worries she had about his ambitions. Kenji fell silent - a sure sign that he was contemplating something he had already been considering - and nodded. "Just say the word, Kenji-kun."

"Try to find good sword-styles," he said simply. "Nothing the average person could manage... I'm looking for a bit of a challenge." Misao nodded eagerly, noting the amusement in Kenji's eyes. He was acting as if learning Hiten Mitsurugi, which had taken his father a good many years, was a game. A silence descended upon the two; just when Kenji was getting up to leave, Misao slammed a fist down on the table. Kenji regarded her with wide eyes.

"I totally forgot, Kenji-kun! D'you remember Rei-chan?" Upon receiving his nod, her grin widened. "Well, she's finally back from China! You should meet her sometime... how about now?" Before the young Himura was allowed to protest, she dragged him back through the halls and, much to his chagrin, towards the dining room. Mana and Chizuru were still there...

"Rei-chaaaaan!" Misao screeched as she slid the door open, ignoring the glances she was receiving from the guests. Kenji's eyes immediately sought out the Raikoji sisters; they were still playing with Aoko, but another girl was with them: a girl around Ai and Shinta's age with long, straight dark hair and icy eyes. Before Kenji was allowed to question Misao, she ran forward, dragging him along. "Wow, Chizuru-san, Mana-san, you've really got my kids wrapped around your fingers!" Mana smiled contentedly as she rolled the ball back and forth with Aoko; Chizuru offered a replica of her sister's features, although it seemed a bit more forced. The girl with long hair grinned - it made her look so different from Aoshi, despite the fact that she looked like him so much - and stood, striding forward and bowing stiffly towards Kenji.

"Yo, Kenji-nii! Remember me?" Kenji nodded, if only to please her; his efforts were rewarded as her grin widened. "It's been ages... I was in China." Once again, the young Himura nodded. He found himself retaining a bit of respect for the girl; she was very young, but she had already been on her own for a number of years. She had faced things beyond the average person's imagination.

"The rest of my family will be arriving soon for the Gion Festival," he said, ruffling her hair playfully. He held back the anger threatening to claw to the surface with amazing control; he was still enraged by the fact that they insisted on following him. "They will be looking forward to seeing you again, Rei-san."

"I hear that Shinta and I are pretty alike," she said, her voice amused. Kenji thought for a moment, then nodded; if Misao's words had any merit, Rei was every inch the demon that Shinta was.

After thanking the Shinomoris and departing (while taking care to leave the location and name of the Yun-ya unknown), Kenji left with the Raikoji sisters. The three of them were silent as they made their way through the center of Kyoto; Kenji noticed the nervous glances Chizuru cast about, then felt his gut twist once again in guilt. She was watchful for their captors... if only she knew that the one watching over them worked for their "bad guys".

Desperate to rid himself of the guilt that plagued him, Kenji turned his gaze to the mountains. He fished the map from his sleeve and surveyed it; if he wished to travel so much, he would have to get used to them. It would take time, but it was a necessity. After finding the street Misao had suggested he take, he refolded the paper and kept it clenched in his hand.

_'Find Seijuro Hiko...'_

Filled with a new resolve (and just realizing that focusing on swordsmanship was much easier than dealing with guilt), Kenji led the Raikoji sisters in the direction of the mountains._ 'Guilt is only momentary, after all...'_

He could only hope it was true.

_to be continued..._

_A/N: Misao's Japanese voice is so pretty... :D I'll try to add some more action in later parts, sorry for being boring. _


	8. Instructor and Pupil

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin.**

Agonized shrieks erupted through the darkness, their only companion and comforter being the silence that had stretched out before and after they sounded. The silence afterwards was short; after a few seconds they sounded again, desperate, garbled with sobs of pain. Kagami shifted uncomfortably as the cries continued, reaching up a free hand to shove his monocle back into place. The damn thing never stayed next to his eye, where it should have been; he would need to get it fixed. But whether or not he could see right now was unnecessary. The darkness muffled even the most experienced warrior's senses, as it had been made to do. The only human being who was able to use all his senses to the fullest was his boss (whose humanity he began to doubt a little more each day). Another agonized shriek filled the infinite blackness, and then silence; although it gave off no sound, it was the most noticeable change Kagami could fathom.

"No information," a firm, yet angered voice hissed as the sound of a sword being sheathed met the other man's ears. "Not a damn word."

"Then he was a fool," Kagami said simply, tonelessly; it was always best to agree with his master. In a mood such as this, the smallest mistake could lead to your own agonized cries. Kagami, although never having been on the receiving end of this anger, knew that many of his word colleagues were gone because of him. Many foolish colleagues. Much to his relief, his master chuckled. His mood had swung from angered to sadistically happy in a second.

"'_Was_'? Kagami, that man _is _a fool." Kagami's eyes widened as the realization hit him; the man who had been crying out earlier was still (unfortunately for him) alive. If the sounds of skin ripping and shredding had been correct, then his master had chosen one of the cruelest forms of punishment for the unlucky man. As the man who had carried out the punishment himself walked through the darkness, Kagami surveyed him from head to toe. Blood had stained his white robes, his bald skull, but a sadistic sneer curled his lips. Normally, the master was a very clean man. It was only when he killed that he allowed anything to stain his clothes or skin. The man in front of him was young, despite his baldness - a baldness that had been intentional, for there were marks painted across his forehead and over the top of his skull. His eyes were youthful, with a right, light brown coloring them. The master's movements were almost catlike, and his pale, smooth skin would only wrinkle when his mouth curled into a sneer. Had he not been covered in blood, had he not been wearing such a grin... he would have passed off as a simple monk. But even the way in which he carried himself showed no humility.

"What was he supposed to tell you?" Kagami managed, biting back the croak in his throat. As the other man's eyes narrowed angrily, he felt his stomach flutter. He had just renewed the anger that he had been working to avoid. However, the bald man merely shook his hands, scattering blood on the floor, and growled.

"More about the Raikoji girls," he hissed between clenched teeth. The hand that rested on his sheathed sword tightened across the metal. "I was checking to see if we'd missed something."

"We've been combing through their family records since we learned of their father's business," Kagami murmured, eyes downcast. "And we know for a fact that the Raikoji children know every last detail of this. But..." He trembled for a moment, afraid of the outcome he would receive for his words. "...we've been having a little trouble getting it out of them. They might have gone through severe trauma, inflicted by their father, in order to assure that they wouldn't speak." Much to his surprise, his master once again laughed; this time it was loud, banishing the silence that had returned after the shrieks had settled.

"Mentally abusing his own children, just to make sure they wouldn't rat him out?" he mused, his hand leaving the sword and finding a place under his chin. "I like that. S'what I would do, if I had kids." Kagami nodded. He did not doubt that statement for a second. His master fell silent for a moment, pondering something unknown to him, then he spoke again. "Yousaku and I met the new kid's family a while ago."

"He has _family_?" Kagami asked, eyes widening. All he knew of the young man they had recruited had come from Yousaku, and it was evident that his servant hadn't told him everything he knew. Had he not been wary of what the master would do, he would have punished the boy. Despite the fact that he was his slave, Yousaku was protected from Kagami's wrath; the boss had taken a liking to him from the first time he had seen him. It could be do to the fact that they were both foreigners - although neither of them showed it, for their Japanese was flawless - but he doubted that something so mundane could be the cause of it. It may have been Yousaku's ability altogether, which was amazing. He was shaken from his thoughts as the bald man nodded curtly, continuing.

"Not just any family, either. His father is the great Battousai, feared assassin of the Bakamatsu." With this, Kagami's eyes widened further, and his mouth dropped open. They had the Battousai's _son_ working for them? When presented with the fact, he realized that it was a gift and a burden. If the boy was anything like his father, his power would easily rival and overcome Yousaku's. With training, he would move towards the top of the organization, becoming the great weapon they had been looking for. But if he had his father's morals (which mostly rode on rumors instead of facts), he would be far too kind. His personality would present a great weakness. Although the Battousai himself had been a merciless killer in his prime, he was a shell of his former self. What if all he had given his son was a shell to inherit? And if his father realized who he was working for and learned of their goals...

Kagami shook his head to clear it of the worrisome thoughts. They presented nothing but setbacks. He could not afford setbacks... not with the position he was in now concerning the master. They would need a means of chaining the Battousai's child to their cause. They needed something to keep him there...

"The Raikoji sisters," the bald man said simply, and Kagami looked at him in mild shock. It had been as if he were reading his thoughts... either that, or unknowingly answering his unspoken question. The former of the two became fact as he continued. "He's their bodyguard, isn't he?" Kagami nodded mutely. "Keep it that way. They're children, they're brash... he'll choose one of the two when he feels so inclined."

"What if he tries to help them escape?" Kagami interjected worriedly. It was a great possibility, and to that, his master merely shrugged.

"Although it's nice to have more than one whore at your side, he'll have to be satisfied with one," he said simply. "Once he chooses, we'll find a means of keeping the other sister in the group. Flatter the boy all you like... I want him practicing with Yousaku daily. Do anything you can in order to increase his strength."

"What if... I know it's impossible, but what... what if he gets too strong?" Kagami finally managed. Dealing his master a blow to his pride was hardly wise. It seemed that the other man was in a good mood, however; he merely sneered.

"You said it was impossible. It is." Then he turned to leave. The sound of dripping suddenly made itself known among the quiet - it had been going on for some time, but the two men had been too immersed in their conversation to notice it - and the bald man glanced back towards his servant. "...Ah. Clean up that mess too, will you?" And, leaving no room for yeses or nos, he opened the door that had been invisible in the darkness. Light filtered into the dark room, marred only by the master's shadow as he passed through it. He left it open, allowing the man who had been tortured earlier to be seen. As Kagami stepped forward, adjusting his monocle to stay on his eye, he gasped lightly.

It hardly looked human. Blood stained the floor and the walls surrounding the man that had been hung up and bound to prevent escape. Loose flesh hung from the body as it swung slowly back and forth, flesh that threatened to fall without a moment's notice. Kagami looked down to the floor to see the skin that had once covered this man - the skin that had been ripped from his body while he was still living. While holding a hand over his mouth and nose to prevent the smell and taste of blood in the air from reaching him, he glanced up again. He beheld the eyes of the man who was no longer unconscious, but had died an agonizing death. Blood still continued to drip from the corpse as it swayed almost hypnotically. Places in which the skin and flesh underneath had been thin allowed bones to show through, bones that would soon bleach while rotting under the sun. Although it would be the same sun that shone now, it would be a remote place in which it rotted; somewhere miles away, perhaps in the mountains. Many a disfigured body had suffered that fate.

"Why can't he hire a servant boy or something?" he muttered as he gingerly reached for the knot holding the man up, untying it and letting the corpse fall to the floor with a sickening _thump._ "Yousaku could do it with a smile."

But he dared not say more. If he allowed his tongue to wriggle too much, and in the wrong way, the next corpse hanging from the ceiling would be his own. If such a thing were to happen, Kagami could only be happy that he would not be skinned alive...

No, the master grew _bored _when he used the same methods too often.

xXx

Chizuru easily jumped the steep incline before her, landing on top; she watched her sister attempt to do the same with worried eyes, and extended a hand to support her. Even with her sister's hand supporting her, Mana stumbled upon climbing the stair. It was merely one obstacle in their path. There would be many, many more.

"I'm not sure if you're up to walking around in the mountains," she said once they had caught up to Kenji, who had been waiting for them (impatiently). "I know you're a lot stronger than a while ago, but even for the average person..." She wiped her brow, as if to convince her, "...it's tough. I'm getting really tired."

"I'm fine," Mana said between pants. She drew herself up to her full height and continued with a little difficulty. When she caught her sister's disbelieving look, she attempted to smile. "I am. Really!"

"Hey, Kenji!" Chizuru turned towards him, ignoring Mana's reassurances. "Mana and I are getting tired. When are we reaching this Seiju-what's-his-face's place?" Kenji glowered at her but said nothing. She was really only mentioning herself being tired in order to convince Mana that she was. The weaker of the Raikoji sisters seemed adamant on continuing, but it was easily seen that she wasn't up to the task. He studied the map he had been keeping at hand and frowned; where _were_ they? Everything looked the same. Upon further studying, however, he realized that they still had a few hours to go. At least. The young Himura openly groaned, and Chizuru's eyes narrowed.

"We're nowhere close to where you want to go," she snapped. "Either that, or we're lost." Mana sighed sadly, looking down at her toes. The angrier of the sisters continued, "Why'd I wear a good kimono today, I wonder? Just to walk around in the middle of nowhere with a moron like you to lead us."

"You didn't have to wear a kimono," Kenji shot back angrily. "You could've just worn..." He trailed off, realizing that there really was no substitute for a kimono when a woman had to go out in public. He rolled his eyes to make up for his lack of a retort. "And we're not in the middle of nowhere. Kyoto is only a few miles away."

"A few," she muttered hotly, the sarcasm practically dripping from her words. "Just a few. Kenji, we've been walking for _hours _now. It'll be getting dark soon." She gestured upwards to reveal the sky, which was, much to the young Himura's chagrin, indeed growing darker by the hour. Chizuru left no silence for him to argue. "Are we even on the right _mountain_?"

"Yes," he bit out angrily. Feeling a sense of nervousness suddenly overwhelm him, he glanced down to the map again. From what he could tell, they were... but his map skills were not the best. He could only hope, but he would die before he let Chizuru know that. She would never let him hear the end of it.

It was when he thought he had finally found the right direction that something strange flooded his senses; he had never intentionally practiced with ki before, but something aside from the fiery energy Chizuru gave off and the flickering energy Mana had invaded his mind. It felt repressed in a way; held back. At the same time, it gave off a cold energy. Upon realizing that he recognized it from before, he glanced in the direction from which he felt it; the naked eye was unable to catch it, but Kenji's other senses confirmed another person's presence.

"Wait here," he said suddenly, handing Mana the map. Chizuru was about to question his behavior when he narrowed his eyes at her - almost dangerously so - and resisted the urge to snap at her. This was not the time to be arguing. "Do as I say." Then he dashed off in the direction of the unknown ki, ignoring the protests following him.

Whoever it was, this person was _fast_... almost too much so. Kenji had a hard time keeping up. Although he couldn't chance looking back to Chizuru and Mana for fear of losing his prey, he suddenly found himself worried; what if it was a diversion? His thoughts were torn from this as the ki he had been chasing came to a sudden halt. Kenji stopped suddenly, disregarding the area he had landed: a tree branch, strangely enough. The young Himura let out a surprised cry as he fell. It was years of training at the Kamiya Dojo that curved his legs underneath him and helped him to land on his feet. Kenji ground his teeth as a jolt of agony shot through his legs upon impacting with the ground, but he quickly pulled himself into a standing position. His eyes widened as he beheld Yousaku standing before him, a small smile curving his lips. He didn't look tired in the least.

"Bravo, Himura-san!" he laughed, and Kenji's eyes narrowed. When the light-haired boy caught the other's sharp gaze, his smile became strained a bit at the edges. "Is something wrong?"

"Why are you following me?" he spat, his hand instinctively longing to go for the hilt of his sakabatou. Yousaku's own eyes narrowed, making his smile look like a deadly, eager one, but he did not move.

"Curiosity," he said simply. Kenji rolled his eyes.

"You were ordered to," he drawled, to which Yousaku laughed again. It was such an infuriating laugh.

"I guess you could say that," he finally said once his laughter had subsided. He reached a hand up to the back of his head nervously, his shoulders shaking in unnoticable chuckles. "Kagami-sama told me to keep an eye on you."

"If you follow me, somebody will surely notice when I get to my destination," Kenji snapped. And it was true; if Seijuro Hiko knew anything at all, it was how to detect somebody's ki. Kenji's father hadn't developed it naturally, as he had. He could only guess that he had learned it the same way as he had done with everything else: by having it beaten into him.

"And your destination is...?" Yousaku trailed off, his green eyes twinkling dangerously. Kenji returned his question with a glare, intent on saying nothing, but the light-haired boy merely continued. "Seijuro Hiko, master of Hiten Mitsurugi?" Kenji's eyes widened slightly and he bit down on his lip to prevent himself from speaking. How did he...? Although he knew their information-gathering abilities were good, he hadn't expected this. Had Yousaku been tracking him all over town? Had he been watching when Kenji had been warmly greeted by the Shinomori family? Worry knotted in his belly. Before he was allowed to openly question this, the light-haired boy continued blissfully.

"You know, Himura-san... when I first met you, I expected you to have lost your family a while ago. Imagine my surprise when I found your family taking a train to Kyoto! And the family at the Aoi-ya..." A sickening smile curled his lip, his eyes narrowing. Aoko's body suddenly flashed through Kenji's mind, bloody and reeking of death. He banished the thought. "...they greeted you very warmly."

"Targeting the Aoi-ya will do nothing to help you," the young Himura spat. There was a clear challenge in his voice. "You might have strong people with you, but Shinomori Aoshi is no force to be reckoned with." He was about to add the same advice for his own family, but the truth stopped him: his father could no longer perform Hiten Mitsurugi. And although he was still left with the basics any swordsman needed to learn (and was a master of these basics), such moves were not enough. Failing to use a weapon he had used all his life would be a great hindrance to Kenshin's fighting abilities. Yousaku, unfortunately, picked this up very quickly.

"But what about _your _family, Himura-san?" he inquired. "Your father is very strong, but without the Hiten style..." He '_tsked' _in the back of his throat. "...fighting _me_ off is going to be a bit difficult."

"You can't defeat my father," Kenji said, resisting the urge to turn up his nose at the other boy. Although he hated sounding like he was completely depending on his father, he knew it was true. Yousaku may have been able to land some attacks on Kenshin - attacks that would later hurt him greatly - but he would be unable to defeat him. The only thing that prevented Kenji from curling his own lips in a sneer was the fact that Yousaku was not the most talented in the organization. Although he was good - very, very good - there was the man who ran the whole scheme. Kenji's eyes widened when the smile on Yousaku's lips faltered just slightly. He had struck a cord.

"Maybe not," the light-haired boy murmured, averting his eyes to the ground. Had he chosen to attack the other man at that time, he would have been dangerously close to killing him. Kenji was too shocked by his change in attitude to properly register oncoming attacks. Luckily for him, Yousaku did no such thing. A silence fell between the two of them; the Himura suddenly found himself worrying over the Raikoji sisters. Yousaku surprised him by continuing. "But had I been willing, I could have killed your mother. Your father was far too slow to realize that she was in danger."

"My mother," Kenji hissed suddenly, his hand curling into a fist. The thought of Kaoru, pinned disgustingly by Yousaku's needles, sent a shiver through his body. And what of Ai and Shinta? The Myogins? If they had gathered the knowledge that he had very close family, they would use it. And they would search for more.

Yousaku lifted a needle from his sleeve - how he had carried it so easily and discreetly was past Kenji - and stroked it with his forefinger as he held it up to the sunlight, squinting as the glare caught his eyes. Kenji gripped the hilt of his sakabatou, suddenly wary of any oncoming attacks; but no such thing happened. The light-haired boy merely continued to stroke the cold, hard metal. Whatever anger had been on his features earlier had vanished.

"You're strong, Himura-san," he murmured thoughtfully. "I thought someone with your potential would have abandoned your family." Kenji bit back a growl - Yousaku's words struck too closely to the truth for his comfort - and suppressed his anger as he continued. "When I saw them, I could only think how much I _hated _them. The next time I see them..." He tossed the needle upwards craftily, catching it with ease, "...I will make sure to turn your mother and siblings into a nice set of pincusions."

Kenji did not remember moving; he could hardly remember anything. There was a burst of rage from within him that forced his legs into action. He moved with a speed he would have never carried, the sakabatou drawn and prepared, as a short cry ripped from his throat. The thought of Kaoru, Ai, and Shinta punctured with Yousaku's needles ravaged his sanity. Before either of the boys knew what was happening, Kenji's sword was pressed against the light-haired boy's throat. The sword had been flipped. His eyes widened as the realization of what he had done hit him; Yousaku's smile was gone, his own eyes wide. There was no fear, as there should have been. Only surprise.

"Amazing," he murmured as he took a tentative step back. Kenji, unsure of what to do, shakily sheathed the sakabatou and averted his eyes. He had come so close to killing him. He chanced to take another look at the light-haired boy's face and felt his heartbeat quicken; the smile was still gone. Yousaku's eyes were wide as he reached a hand to his throat, tracing the smooth skin in an attempt to find any breaks. He drew it back, green eyes glittering, as he detected the faint pink smear on his pale hand. Kenji glanced down to the sword; there was no sign at all that he had broken the skin.

"You're amazing, Himura-san," Yousaku said again, panting slightly. His smile was about to return, but it faltered again, and Kenji saw something akin to anger flashing through his green eyes. Although his voice was breathless with awe, the Himura could detect the rage in it, "With the right training, you could easily surpass your father."

Kenji's eyes widened. Despite having often pined on the topic, he had never made any moves to grow stronger than his father. But now that the opportunity was presented to him - along with the fact that Yousaku had said "easily" - he could not help but want to make a grab at it. That rush earlier, when all sanity had abandoned him... had that been what it had been like to be a hitokiri? Although he knew it was a tender subject, Kenji had often admired his father's legends. No matter how often he was told it was a horrible thing, he could not help but wonder what it had been like. If he sought the "right training", as Yousaku had said... would he achieve this strength?

"What kind of training would this be?" he asked, realizing that he, too, was breathless. Yousaku's sneer instantly returned.

"You will master Hiten Mitsurugi," he instructed, as if he had memorized the words. "During your training with that style, you will learn from me. _My _style..." An audible chuckle issued from his lips as he held up the needle again, "...is with these. You will be taught in how to use them, along with pressure points. We'll spar three times a week. I will come to you when I feel we need a practice session." Then he lightly surprised Kenji by turning and making to leave. All thoughts of training were banished by Yousaku's previous threats; Kenji stepped forward suddenly, stopping the other boy.

"My family," he bit out angrily, but before he was allowed to continue, the light-haired boy waved a hand.

"Will be safe," he said smoothly, but the note of rage was still in his voice. "As long as you remain loyal to us." Then he melted into the foliage. Kenji's eyes scanned the trees and bushes for any sign of Yousaku's white gi, but he could see nothing. The young Himura bit back an angry growl, but sudden thoughts of the Raikoji sisters shook him from following. He turned, reluctantly, and proceeded to seek out their ki.

"Took you long enough," Chizuru muttered darkly from her postion on a log. Mana looked ready to fall asleep on the forest floor. The harsher of the sisters was analyzing the map with rapt interest, and when Kenji attempted to take it from her, she yanked it away. Before he was allowed to protest, she stood, waving the paper in front of his face irritably. "This Seijuro guy lives here," she said, pointing to the circled spot, "and _we _are here." She pointed again to a place that Kenji too far from Hiko's cottage for his comfort. Chizuru's tone was all acid as she continued. "For all we know, you've been leading us around in circles! Some wanderer you are!"

"Shut it," he finally snapped, glaring at her. She was only more than happy to return the glare. He was about to snatch the map from her, but her hands wove away from his quickly, manipulating the paper so it ended up above their heads as Chizuru tried to keep it away from him. Kenji blew his bangs from his eyes - he was short, but he was taller than her - and made a grab for the paper. His hand locked with hers as they fought over the map. Chizuru would have kicked him, had the kimono restricted her legs less; she satisfied herself by kneeing him in the leg, dangerously close to the groin. Kenji's eyes narrowed as he manipulated his foot behind hers, tripping her gracefully. She fell with a surprised cry, and he snatched the map from her flailing hands. His free hand supported her before she fell, and when she was about to make another grab for the paper, he stopped her with a glare. "Don't be difficult."

"I'm not a child," she spat angrily. It was only when Mana squeaked in surprise (having awakened from her drifting nap) that they two noticed the position they were in. Kenji's free hand was above their heads with the map, while the other was nestled in the small of her back; one of Chizuru's was grabbing his collar and the other his hair as she attempted to throttle him. The young Himura blinked as he released her, foolishly allowing her to fall back on her rear. Chizuru rubbed her butt as she swore angrily, biting her lip afterwards to forestall any moans.

"Chizuru-ne," Mana croaked as she moved to help her sister to her feet, but Kenji was quicker. Before he could really register what he had done, he was reaching a hand out to her; Chizuru watched it suspiciously, as if she expected it to betray her with some form of a cruel joke. Before Kenji could withdraw the offer, she grabbed it, pulling herself up. She stared at their twined fingers for a moment afterward in confusion. Instead of taking it as some sort of come on, as many girls may have done, she stared at it skeptically. She was trying to figure out the reasons behind his offer.

"Whatever," she muttered darkly, pulling her fingers from his. She then glared at him again, and Kenji was only too happy to abandon the strange situation and glare back. Her eyes drifted from his up to his hand, where he still held the map. He expected her to make another lunge for it, to make the situation worse than it needed be, but she merely extended a hand. "You can't read maps to save your life," she offered. Kenji would have taken this for an insult, had there been more acid in her voice. His arm slackened and fell to his side, and he handed her the map hesitantly. She took it in the same manner.

"A-all right," she stuttered as she found their place on the map again. Her fingers traced through the small landmarks on the paper, her eyes moving along with them. Kenji suddenly realized why she would be so good with maps: she had used them often while trying to escape. He felt his stomach twist a little at the thought, but said nothing. Chizuru continued, "We go this way. We'll be there in an hour or two..."

xXx

A set of teacups dried in front of a scorching flame. The potter himself watched from a distance; the intense heat was uncomfortable. The old man laughed in the back of his throat, reminding himself that nearly everything was uncomfortable nowadays. Even sitting on this log was worse than it had been ten years ago. Once again, Hiko laughed. There had been no mortal to defeat him, so Fate had sent its favorite means of killing: time. Ever since he had turned "the big six-o" (as his stupid pupils friends had once put it), he had noticed that everything was beginning to wither within him... _had _it been sixty? Hiko couldn't be sure.

Everything was changed by time, and that did not leave out his stupid pupil. A wife, kids... if the thirteenth master of Hiten Mitsurugi thought about it long enough, he could feel jealous for the fool. Hiko had never bothered to have a wife or children, but the pros of such a situation almost made him regret not doing so. Kenshin's wife... her name was Kaoru, wasn't it? He had never really bothered to remember. Marrying his stupid pupil could have meant two things: she was either very stupid, or very, very brave. And if the letters Kenshin sent him every once in a while held any merit, the two were just as much in love as they had been when they were married. _Blech._

But for Hiko, the only thing time changed was the color of his hair and his movement. He was still the potter he had been many years ago. Still the drinker, too. The elder felt around for the sake bottle at his side and brought it up to his lips, drinking deeply. It was, indeed, the mixture of the gods.

"...Ouch! Dammit!"

Hiko turned slowly, his eyes tracing the foliage and catching site of a young woman in a stunning red kimono. She was angrily swatting past branches and pulling her hair from snags as attempted to hike into the clearing. Finally, she had waited long enough; she hiked up her kimono to her legs, ignoring all instincts women should have been born with, and took long steps. Once out of the woods, she sighed, dropping the fabric and allowing it to cover her legs again. The older man suppressed a snicker; he wouldn't have minded seeing more.

"Owie... Chizuru-ne..." Another voice followed, this one being another girl. She refused to remove the fabric around her legs in an attempt to make the traveling easier; she was practically yanked from the woods by the other girl. For a moment, the girls were silent as they stared into the woods. The thirteenth master of Hiten Mitsurugi was about to question them when a ki invaded his senses; he stopped suddenly, eyes widening just slightly. It sparked with familiarity, but he had never seen its owner... it was his father that Hiko thought of when he identified it. Just as he expected, a short boy with long, brown hair and blue eyes stepped into the clearing. He had, if anything, more grace than either of the girls.

"We're here," the first girl said proudly, grinning. Hiko's stupid pupil's son - Kenji, he was guessing - thanked the girl hesitantly. It was only when the older man coughed in the back of his throat that they noticed his presence. Kenji instantly straightened and walked forward, his steps stiff and hesitant. Had there been no questions in his mind, Hiko would have laughed.

"Seijuro Hiko... san," he finally added the honorific, albeit hesitantly. "You taught my father Hiten Mitsurugi."

"I only taught one idiot," Hiko mused aloud, "so you must be Kenji." The young Himura nodded, and the old man could hear something akin to a snicker escape the girl-in-red's mouth. Kenji threw a glare at her, but looked back to Hiko almost instantly. "Who are your lady friends?" he drawled.

"Raikoji Mana-san and Raikoji Chizuru-san," he answered, but there was a strain to the last girl named. The brasher of the two girls - the one called Chizuru, he guessed - sniffed audibly. Hiko suddenly found himself liking this girl very much.

"And where's my stupid pupil?" he asked, unable to keep the sarcasm from his voice. His eyes flitted towards the woods, as if he expected Kenshin to come in after his son, but he saw no one. His pupil's ki was nowhere to be found.

"He... he's on a train to Kyoto." There was a strain on the words, as if Himura Kenji loathed that fact. "He'll be here in a matter of hours."

"Hm," the old man returned simply, turning and looking back into the flames. Although he could not bear to sit next to them anymore, looking into the smoking embers was still something that he found enjoyable. A silence stretched - a silence that Kenji found greatly discomforting, for he fidgeted a few times - until Hiko spoke, more to himself than the auburn-haired boy. "So you're here alone."

"Yes," came the reply. If anything, it sounded relieved. This boy was so different from his father.

Although he was currently staring into the flickering red flames, the thirteenth master of Hiten Mitsurugi marveled at how much the child _looked_ like his father. Had his hair been a bit redder - he was not sure where exactly the boy had gotten the brown locks - had his eyes been a shade of violet, and had the scar been crossing his cheek, he would have been the exact replica of his father. But it was as he had observed earlier; Kenji was nothing like Kenshin. For that, the old man felt both relieved and (although he would never admit it to a living soul) a bit nervous.

"Seijuro-san," Kenji said, summoning his voice again. The man did not so much as twitch in reply. "I didn't come here to visit."

"What did you come for?" the older man questioned dully, although he was confident in his abilities to predict the answer.

"I came for you to train me," the words were firm; whatever worries the boy had carried were either gone or cleverly masked. When the old man fell silent, Kenji faltered for a moment, but clarified, "In Hiten Mitsurugi."

"What else have I to teach?" Hiko murmured offhandedly as he kept his gaze on the fire. As he leaned forward and grabbed a log, standing and throwing it into the flames beneath the pottery, he already knew his answer, "I refuse."

"Seijuro-san!" Kenji gasped, his cool demeanor shattered. He stepped forward, ignoring the confused murmurings of the Raikoji sisters. The injustice of the thirteenth master's answer astonished him. How could he be so quick to refuse his plea? He had trained his father; it had taken nothing but graves to be persuaded. He was about to continue, to further his plea, but the old man interrupted him.

"You live in an era that doesn't need Hiten," he said, a hint of resentment tinging his voice. His next words were condescending, sneeringly degrading, "You're a stupid _child. _The last stupid child I taught wound up using my skills for killing under the pretense of _peace._ You are no different than your father. You'll screw up."

Kenji was silent for a moment, and Hiko bit back a sneer. Teasing Kenshin had always been fun; it appeared to run in the family. Although he would never have the "you wet the bed when you were how old" jokes he had used on his first stupid pupil, he would delight in tormenting this boy. Now, there was only the matter of actually training him... something he doubted he would ever do. Hiko was old; it had been ages since he had practiced a Hiten move, but he was sure that it would tax his slowly withering body. Without someone to physically instruct the boy in the style, he would never learn it.

After all, _no one _was capable of performing moves after just listening to how they were carried out.

"Seijuro," Kenji said quietly, but his voice was audible. The old man's eyebrows rose; he had intentionally left out the honorific. There was no respect whatsoever. It was as if his own degrading voice had been changed, turned on him with but a fraction of its old ferocity. Although it was considerably less than what he had used, it was there, and it was challenging him. "There are styles capable of defeating Hiten Mitsurugi."

Somewhat surprised by this strategy but nonetheless intrigued (although deniably so), Hiko narrowed his eyes and turned to face the boy. Kenji's features further stunned him; he wore a sneer, the image of his own as he had degraded him earlier.

"There are not," Hiko returned evenly. Of this, he was very confident. He had scoured Japan for every style he could find, for any means of a challenge against Hiten, but he had found none. His master had informed him of having done this also, not long before he had killed him when learning the final move. Despite all this, the boy wished to challenge him? He was a greater fool than his father.

"There are," Kenji continued. "Hadn't my father informed you of Yukishiro Enishi's _jinchu_? He used a Chinese style, Watojutsu. If you refuse to aid me, then..." His sneer widened, "...I will go to China. I will master Watojutsu, and when I come back, I'll finish what my father should have when he learned Hiten's final move."

"You will kill me?" Hiko snorted, feeling his own sneer curl his lips. "You are a greater fool than your father. Mastering a style takes time; you can't just learn it in a matter of days. By the time you master this 'Watojutsu', I'll have died. I'm old enough as it is."

"Are you so sure?" Kenji prodded. "Give me a move - any move - and describe it to me. Then you'll see if I'm as weak as you think." To this, Hiko once again snorted. There was no stopping this fool, was there? How had Kenshin let this confidence grow without hindering it? _'Stupid pupil,' _he thought irately as he rolled his eyes. There was no choice; he would show the boy how pathetic he really was.

"Ryutsuisen," he countered. "An overhead, single-handed or double-handed swing, delivered after a high jump. It was a favorite of your father's."

Kenji was silent for a moment, absorbing the words and silently instructing his body what to do. He was then still; Hiko smirked, sure that he would be unable to do so. It was only when the boy lept from his place did his eyes widen. Kenji pulled the sakabatou from its sheath in a swift, fluid motion. The only sound made was Mana's small gasp as he brought the sword down in a slash, blade flipped; the stump Hiko had been sitting on moments earlier was cleaved down the middle with a resounding crack. The thirteenth master of the Hiten style stood, stunned, as Kenji nimbly landed on the stump and jumped off quickly, allowing the former seat to fall apart.

He had just performed the move. He had only listened to how it worked, and he had carried it out in a way that would have made his father proud... were he proud about such things.

With training, he would rival the Battousai in his prime.

With training, he would _surpass _the Battousai.

"Have you changed your mind, Seijuro?" Kenji half-sneered, half hoped. Hiko blinked, banishing his astonishment quickly. Strong or not, this brat had an attitude that needed to be beaten down.

"Half-way," he replied airily, to which Kenji's eyes narrowed. With a smirk, he continued, "Hiten Mitsurugi is not something you can learn overnight."

"But I--"

"There were several mistakes," he interjected, sneering. "Your form was all off in the air. You positioned yourself downwards far too quickly; if your enemy gained height on you, you'd be completely open. Had your father done it," he studied the stump before him critically, "the cut would have been deeper and more even."

Kenji bristled; once again overshadowed in comparison to his father, he clenched his teeth angrily. With a great deal of effort, he regained his composure and sheathed the sakabatou, flipping it once again to ensure that the dull end would meet attackers in the future. He turned briskly, his pride wounded; if he had to, he would learn from Yousaku until he was strong enough. Then he would come back and beat the tar out of the old fart... the last move would be, of course, the Ryutsuisen.

"You'll have to do, I suppose," Hiko called out in a drawl, having turned back to examine the pottery on the fire. There were many drawbacks to teaching the child, but he was more than willing to stand by and sneer when Kenji encountered them. "Do you have proper lodging?"

Kenji, whose mouth was dry from surprise, nodded quickly. Hiko rolled his eyes.

"Come whenever you like, then," he snapped irritably. "Just remember to bring some gifts along with you."

"Gifts, Seiju-... master?"

"Sake, boy, sake!" Hiko snapped, whirling upon him. "You're as stupid as your father!" Kenji said nothing, merely flinching as his pride took another blow; he nodded stiffly. Hiko glanced past him to behold the girls, both watching silently. Chizuru looked immensely bored. "And if you prefer one girl to the other, I wouldn't mind taking one off of your hands."

"Master..." The look on Kenji's face was, if anything, exasperated.

"Whatever," the old man snorted, crossing his arms in front of him and looking down at the boy degradingly. "Your first job as my stupid pupil..." He glanced over to the stump that had been his seat for as long as he could remember. "...find a new stump."

xXx

Kaoru's smile widened as she beheld Kyoto in its preparation for the Gion Festival. It had taken hours, but the long train ride was worth it; at least, she felt so. She had, for a majority of the ride, been leaning on her husband's shoulder. Ai and Shinya had slept for part of the way in a similar fashion, much to Kenshin's chagrin. No matter how kind he was overall, the man was a father first and foremost. For now, the two could be childishly cute, but when they grew older... the Myogin boy would have to watch out.

"I wouldn't have Ai with anyone else," she had told Kenshin while still on the train. Her husband responded with an uncharacteristic grumble, but nothing more. Kaoru shrugged it off; there would be plenty of time for that later. For now, they needed to concentrate on getting to the Aoi-ya.

"Damn, my legs are still wobbly," Sano complained. He had been doing so ever since they had boarded the train, and both the Himura husband and wife knew that he would never let them hear the end of it. Sano _hated _trains. Kaoru had argued with him about it many a time, but neither of them had gotten their point across: Sano was adamant on believing that they ran on witchcraft or magic, whilst Kaoru stuck with the theory of steam engines. Megumi, who had (somehow) silenced the fighter half-way between Tokyo and Kyoto, slapped him on the arm.

"Don't be such a sissy, bird-brain," she snapped irritably. Sano was about to protest, but a glare from both doctor and Himura wife silenced him. He retired to Kenshin's side, shortening his pace in order to allow the shorter man to keep up.

"They're scary when they're like that," he muttered, fish bone dancing along his lips as he spoke. Kenshin could only "oro". Sano stared at his friend, bewildered. "What, you can live with it? I'm suddenly _glad _I never knocked the doctor lady up. I couldn't stand married life or kids."

"Orororo..." Kenshin croaked, on the verge of swirly-eyes. "S-Sano, I think it would be _you _that would screw up the happy family scene..." He could never imagine the fighter-for-hire pushing a baby carriage around. It was too bizzare.

"You're the one that screwed it up, Kenshin," Sano answered deviously, grinning. It took the ex-rurouni a moment to actually understand the pun, and when he did, his eyes swirled pitifully. Sano was baffled. "Just _how_ old are you again? C'mon, we all know you liked getting your daily dose of Jou-chan..."

"N-not _daily_, Sano...!"

"What? She kicked you out after a while?" Sano's grin was insufferable, his tone growing dangerously loud. "Tho' I guess a few times is enough, ne, Kenshin? It takes many nails to build a cradle, but it only takes one screw to fill it!"

"Sano!" Kenshin hissed angrily, all signs of embarrassment forestalled. "You don't need to know anything about my married life--"

"What? You're still getting so--" But the words were cut from Sano's mouth as a terribly large suitcase (Kaoru's, no less) came hurtling through the air, crashing into Sano's face. Kaoru, hands planted on her hips, strode forward with an enraged Megumi in tow. Ai, Shinya, and Shinta watched from a safe distance.

"I cannot believe you, Sagara!" Kaoru screeched as she grabbed him by the unruly hair, shaking him for emphasis. A crowd was starting to gather, drawn in no doubt by the fighter whose nose was currently bleeding (with no sign of letting up), courtesy of the small woman in front of him. "You sleaze!" She grabbed Kenshin's arm firmly, leading him forward. Megumi turned her nose up at the floored man in front of her.

"Oi, fox, wait up!" he croaked as he stood, a hand on his nose. The lady-doctor picked up Kaoru's suitcase, examining it sadly.

"Oh, the fabric's ruined," she murmured sadly, shaking her head. Sano attempted to glare, but doing so with a possibly broken nose was a feat hardly any men were capable of. Megumi turned briskly, stained suitcase over her shoulder, and followed the Himuras.

"Wait _up_, fox!"

Ai pulled on her mother's sleeve, her free hand pointing down the street.

"I think the Aoi-ya is over there," she said, directing them to the inn. Kaoru grinned happily as she led her children towards the home of the Shinomori family. Kenshin let out an 'oro' of relief, glad to have the opportunity to break away from the crowd around Sano and Megumi.

"Misao-chan!" Kaoru cried, hands around her mouth to amplify her voice to a degree. A screech was heard from some far-off point in the inn, followed by a terrible crashing noise; both Kenshin and Kaoru flinched. Shinta snorted as the family's "favorite aunt" came sprinting around the corner.

"Kaoru-san!" she cried, enveloping the Himura wife in a hug. Kaoru gladly returned the gesture, and Misao proceeded to hug everyone - save for Kenshin and Sano, whom she merely saluted childishly - and grabbed their suitcases. "I've missed you guys so much!" she prattled as she led them down the long hallways. "It seems like only yesterday that we were fighting off Kamatari right in front of the Aoi-ya, right, Kaoru-san? You don't look like you've aged much. And Ai, Shinta... you're both so cute! You've gotten a lot taller, Shinta... And I think I've only met Shinya once before, hi! So..."

Misao continued talking, allowing no room for answers, going on as if she were running a marathon with her mouth. It was only when she bumped into a child around the twins' age that she stopped, looking down; the icy eyes of her child looked back up to her. She gasped happily, somehow finding a way to free her hand with all the luggage and turn the girl around to introduce her.

"This is Rei-chan!" she beamed. "She was in China for a few years... Kaoru-san, Himura, I'm pretty sure you guys have seen her once or twice before!"

"Rei-chan?" Kaoru gasped, eyes wide. "We haven't seen you in ages! How've you been in China?" Rei shrugged her shoulders, a grin brightening her features mischeviously.

"I've been great, Kaoru-san," she said, nodding towards the Himuras respectfully. She caught Shinta's eyes for a moment, holding them as if in a challenge. She broke the eye-contact smoothly, turning to Kenshin and Kaoru. "How have you been?"

"Great," Kaoru beamed, answering for the both of them. She placed her hands on the twins' heads. "This is Ai and Shinta. I'm pretty sure they're your age... eleven, right?" To that, Rei nodded brightly.

"Don't be fooled by her cute looks and happy attitude, Shinta-kun," Misao said suddenly, grinning deviously at the redhead Himura son. The boy blushed uncharacteristically, stammering irritably in reply. Ai giggled. Misao continued with the torture, "She's a regular hellion."

"Then I'm sure they'll be perfect for each other," Kaoru laughed, ruffling her son's hair. Shinta averted his eyes stubbornly, causing both wives to laugh almost mercilessly. Kenshin, sensing the embarrassment of his son, directed the children around the two women.

"We'll find our room," he said brightly, smiling. "I'm sure you two want to talk a bit."

"Thanks, Kenshin," Kaoru said happily. Kenshin smiled at his wife and led the children around a corner, sighing once they were out of hearing.

"Let's find the rooms, then," he said, to which Shinta nodded quickly, glad to be rid of the teasing. As Kenshin looked to the paper, memorizing the number and hefting his suitcase over his shoulder, he mused on how strange of a stay it would be.

_to be continued..._

_Blah. Please review or something... tho' I really hate this chapter. xD_


	9. Attraction and Repulsion

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin.**

"This'll be your room," Rei said in a well-memorized tone as she slid the door open, allowing the Himura twins in. Ai's violet orbs widened upon entry; it was, as Misao had promised eagerly, one of the best rooms in the house. The floors beneath their feet shown handsomely, having probably been cleaned only hours earlier for the occasion. The walls were painted with an intricate array of animals that could only be recognized in Asia, following the style of the old paintings of grand artists. From walls that were not already decorated with marvelous paintings hung richly-patterned kimonos - those of which, no doubt, were the twins' size. Shinta lazily dropped his bag and slid open a closet to reveal futons upon futons. His nose wrinkled.

"Gee, I feel like the emperor," he muttered unenthusiastically. Misao and Kaoru's teasing had done his mood no good. Ai threw a warning glance at him, but Rei, having already caught on to his irritation, waved a hand casually.

"Don't worry, Ai-chan," she said, banishing the other girl's fears before they were allowed to be spoken. "Those silly little 'perfect match' words have got a sword shoved up his ass." To the last word, Ai stiffened slightly; Shinta whirled in the ninja's direction, eyes flaring.

"I was not affected by that," he snapped defensively. "Aren't girls your age taught how to talk nicely? I bet your Buddhist dad wouldn't like hearing you cuss." To this, Rei's reaction was not what he would have wanted; she stretched in a leisurely manner, yawning loudly.

"And I care because...?" She rose an eyebrow inquiringly. Shinta, finding no means of retaliation that rested in words, snorted.

"Don't act tough," Shinta snapped irately, pulling two futons from the closet as he spoke (with very little success). "You're just cocky because you've been... gone... from your family for a long time now." Upon seeing her eyes, which sneeringly and wordlessly begged him to continue, he spoke again, "For all we know, you were touring the world. Just like that porcupine train-phobic guy-"

"Siderodromophobic."

Shinta blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

"Siderodromophobic," Rei said again, shrugging. "One who fears trains, railroads, or train travel." The twins' faces were very much alike: as if they were startled fish, their eyes wide and mouths gaping. Rei grinned broadly, suppressing a chuckle. Her vocabulary never ceased to amaze others. "And for your information, Shinta-chan, I wasn't touring the world."

"Drop the _'chan'_," he said coolly. He had never liked being treated as if he were little, despite the obvious fact that he was. "And if you weren't, where were you for six years or so?" The sneer in his voice was a challenge, no doubt. Rei took it on eagerly.

"I was in China," she said, sitting down on one of the futons Shinta had attempted to unfold. She patted the spot next to her and they sat (Shinta doing so much more grudgingly). "I've been working in the underground in an attempt to find a drug that was supposedly being produced in mass quantities and was very dangerous." A grin curled her lips; Ai was taking in every word in a awed stupor, whilst Shinta stared at her as if she were insane. The latter was the more believable of the two. Had she told anyone about her trip, they would have thought her insane. Who in Japan - no, in the _world_ - would believe that a five-year-old girl had trapised off to China to investigate drugs?

After a moment's silence, Shinta's much-expected reply came, "Yeah, right."

"It is," she said simply, her grin never fading. Rei took an immediate interest in Shinta; it seemed as if he were willing to believe her words, but he was also apprehensive. He didn't want to be fooled, which was an expected reaction. Very _human_. "I'm not exactly your run-of-the-mill kid," she added.

"Wow," he retorted sarcastically. "As if we don't have enough of those. My older brother has it in his head that he's some sort of demigod. And now we've got a child prodigy. What next?"

"Shinta-nii!" Ai stammered, eyes wide with disbelief.

"Don't worry, Ai-chan," Rei said simply, shrugging it off. "Doesn't bother me." At this, Shinta's eyes narrowed; it was something of an insult to his pride to fail in an attempt to verbally rattle her. Crossing his arms firmly in front of his chest, he met her eyes fiercely. Icy blue orbs danced with amusement.

"Not even some child prodigy could survive for _six years _in China," he said accusingly. "Not alone, at least."

"I never said I was alone," she answered simply. "Well, I was alone good-guy wise, but that doesn't really count. Let's see..." She stroked her chin with a hand, as if she had some sort of a beard - it was a habit she had picked up somewhere along the line of work - and mused out loud. "I lived with a few families. The first one was pretty nice, and being that cute lil' old me was only five, they took me in. My Chinese, which was pretty crappy at first, got a lot better. After I picked up leads to the company, which was... two years later? I think so. Anyway, I was glad to get back into some of the shadowy habits. I spent a few more years working at an inn that I guessed was one of their hideouts. After I finished with the hum-drum laundry gig, I would poke around in the underground and make friends." The way she said this suggested that her "friends" had not been quite willing. It was strange, thinking of a girl between seven and eleven threatening a man more than three times her age.

"I almost caught one of their weasels," she said, her tone bordering nostalgia. "But it was in the wrong place at the wrong time I decided to catch him - the bastard was really sloshed out one night, and I got cocky. I tried to get him out in the open, but a few more of them caught me trying to wring the info from him, and they beat the crap outta me. I was lucky I got away." She whistled thoughtfully. "Anyway, they told the guys at the inn and I needed to haul ass before they caught on to me. I spent the rest of the time in the streets, and right when I picked up another lead... Mom and Dad wanted me home." The disappointment in her voice was evident.

"I'm glad you're okay," Ai said breathlessly, her eyes wide. Shinta glared at his sister accusingly. She had eaten it up.

"I still don't believe it," he said crossly. "You were _five._ Smart or no, kids don't do that kind of stuff. It's just _stupid._"

"You're pretty naive, Shinta," she mused, leaving the name without an honorific. "Children have been used for military purposes for ages. Even before our parents were born, emperors and kings were signing agreements to have little kids go off to war... be it as soldiers, messengers, sex slaves, or _shields_." To this, Ai paled considerably. Rei continued, oblivious to the affect her words were having on the other two. "And it's not just Japan. Boy soldiers were used by the British Army in the Battle of Waterloo, Jewish kids as young as eight were used in Russia..."

"I get it, okay?" Shinta snapped, becoming worried for Ai. The ebony-haired girl seemed on the verge of tears; she had obviously never thought of the possibility of children being used for something as graphic as war at such a young age. _'Then again,' _he thought grudgingly as he patted her shoulder in an attempt to comforting, _'neither have I.'_

"Compared to those kids, I'm lucky," Rei murmured, and this time, her voice didn't sound so enthusiastic. Shinta nodded vaguely, comparing her exposure to the real world to the experiences of those she had spoken of. There were very many differences, but it all came down to the same thing: being young did not mean you were guaranteed shelter. A silence descended on the three for a moment, and Shinta noted the absolute stillness of everything in the room - and, it seemed, outside too - before Rei laughed loudly, shocking the twins.

"Can't take the silence," she said, once she had finished her somewhat disturbing laugh. Shinta was about to scold her, but the small smile on his sister's face silenced him. The long-haired Shinomori girl stood abruptly. "I should let you guys get your stuff ready."

"Wait!" Ai called suddenly, standing. "Uh, um..." She fell silent, taking a sudden interest in her sock-clad feet. "Could you, um... tell me about China? About the family that kept you for a few years?" The curiosity in her voice was genuine. For a moment, Shinta saw disbelief flash through the other girl's eyes, but she said nothing. The confident, reassuring smile was once again on her lips and she turned back to them, assuming a sitting position.

"I guess a story wouldn't hurt, would it, Shinta?" she looked at him inquiringly. Shinta, much to his chagrin, nodded silently.

_'She seems very grown-up,' _was the thought that ran through his mind as Rei proceeded to tell them of the silent beauty, the rare tranquility, the harsh reality, and the devastating misery she had seen. As the three soon became lost in tales that had taken years to weave, years of miserable experiences and happy moments that sparsely populated her time in China. For a moment, Shinta thought of his father, and if the carcasses in the streets she spoke of reminded him of those in the Bakamatsu. Despite these horrible words, Rei would bring up something that made her happy, if only in a bittersweet way. It became utterly clear to Shinta: some people were forced to grow up quickly.

And some people, people like his older brother Kenji, were just too desperate to become an adult.

xXx

Chizuru swatted a bug irritably, her eyes narrowing as she attempted to catch site of either her sister or Kenji through the darkness. The sun had gone down long ago - all that remained were the pale lights given off by the moon and stars - leaving the three teens and the old man stranded on the mountain top for the night. Hiko had, upon getting a closer look at the girls, invited them in graciously. Then he had badgered Kenji into going out to find him a stupid _stump _to sit on.

_'Moron,' _she thought angrily, stumbling again. Had she not needed to relieve herself so badly, she would have stayed in the cabin; she would have been asleep right now, safe from the annoying bugs. Although she was good with maps, she was horrible in the dark. She could only hope that Kenji (being the talented, arrogant bastard he insisted on acting as) would hear the noise she made. He would find her, and he would lead her back to the cabin, degrading her all the way.

_'I just hope he finds me before some wild animal does,' _she thought with a shudder. The thought of Mana awakening in the morning and leaving the cabin to find a pile of bones with a very nice (and unclawed) kimono was a bit... unnerving. Having been thinking about being eaten to the point of disregarding her location, Chizuru's foot caught on an upturned root. The young Raikoji gave a startled cry as she fell forward; instead of meeting the ground uncomfortably, as she had expected, gravity pulled her into something of a void. The scream in Chizuru's lungs died instantly as she finally collided with the ground... to find that it was not quite as _dry _as it should have been.

Chizuru looked up, squinting through the darkness; as her eyes became adjusted to the lack of light, she realized that she had fallen from a steep incline. Her arms throbbed as she attempted to lift herself up, having been thoroughly jolted when she had used them to brace her fall. Although excruciatingly painful, she could tell that they were not broken. She had broken bones before (although a great majority of these had been inflicted upon her by men who had gotten rather... rough). She knew how to detect such an injury upon first feeling it. Chizuru clenched her hands together to find mud gathering within her grip. Had it rained earlier? No, it had been the uncaring sun that had blazed down on them upon climbing up the mountain.

Chizuru wobbled upwards, noting the pain jolting through her ankle with a hiss. It, too, was not broken, but it was worse than the rest of her. _'Sprained, probably,' _she thought, facial features twisting in pain as she attempted to stand. Hiking down the mountain would _not _be something she would enjoy. Grabbing the side of the incline she had fallen from with mud-slick hands, she dragged herself into a comfortable sitting position, ignoring the ruined state of her kimono. Once she had found a means of sitting that put no pressure on her ankle, she hugged her knees to her chest, breathing out between her chattering teeth. What was it, the middle of summer? Despite the hot, humid days that passed by, the nights still found a means to be chilling.

She had no means of knowing how long she waited; it could have been moments, but she was leaning more towards hours. Her ankle had gone from sharp, jabbing pain to a dull throb, but she knew to move it would mean renewal of the pain. For the time she was unable to guess, she sat in the darkness, silently marveling on the stillness around her. How long had it been since she had last enjoyed this quiet? Her blue eyes closed as she thought, but she could dig up no memories of ever having done such a thing. For so long - ever since their father had decided to beat very dangerous knowledge into his daughters - she had been both fighting and running. Her skills with swords were miserable; the last time she had picked up a sword, she had been beaten over the head and into unconsciousness before she could bring it up to strike. Her only strength had lain, and forever would lay, in the determination she kept.

As Chizuru waited, unwanted images of her father flashed through her mind, and she was suddenly reminded why she had often strained so hard to keep herself from these quiet moments. It was not something she resorted to thinking of when she thought herself close to death - she had been hurt, abused in all possible ways, but never had she been close to death - it was something that came to her naturally with the silence. It was brought on by the stillness that seemed to muffle her, to freeze the air in her lungs.

It came because the silence had been their father's favorite method of punishment.

How many times had she found herself tied into a closet, bound hand and foot, gagged with something that tasted strongly of blood? It could have been her own or somebody else's, she had no way to be sure... Once she had heard her mother outside, screaming, begging, and then silenced by her father. _'What happened to the man I married?' _she would question. _'What happened to the man I loved?'_ But her questions and pleas would be drowned out by her agonized screams. Through all this, Chizuru would wait in the darkness, bound to the silence that surrounded her. After the ordeal her mother had gone through, the doors would open to her, and her father would sneer at her and leave her there. Once, she remembered, she had stayed in that closet for two days with no means of escape. It had only been when Mana had begged, cried, and screamed that her father had acknowledged her existence once again.

Mana's suffering had been different. The only way Chizuru knew this was because their father had named the closet; "Chi-chan's Closet", he had called it. The thought sickened her. No, Mana had suffered in some other way, a way that traumatized her too much to speak of it. Chizuru herself had never spoken to her sister of the closet, but Mana had been there. She had seen her brave, strong sister being forced into the darkness and tied down. She had listened to Chizuru's screams fading into the inevitable silence. The young Raikoji instantly shook her head, banishing the memories; she would have nightmares, were she lucky enough to fall asleep.

_'Think happy thoughts,' _she ordered herself stubbornly. _'Silly, meaningless, happy thoughts.'_ And it worked, just as it had done so many times before.

What would Mana think when she awoke to find her sister missing? What would Kenji think? _'He'd probably offer to leave me here,' _she thought angrily, her fists clenching at the idea. If that was what he planned on, she would crawl down the mountain on her hands and knees, and then she would throttle him--

Such thoughts were instantly stopped as she felt gentle, yet firm fingers trace her sprained ankle. Had she not been in pain, she would have kicked the offending hand, but the limb retreated into the darkness before she could find time to think. Then it was Kenji who neared her, his features unreadable as he took in her position, her skin and clothes muddy, her hair in disarray. She was about to reprimand him for his actions, but his eyes went from her own and back to her ankle, gently tracing it with his hands. Chizuru involuntarily shuddered.

She wanted to snap, to shove him off, but the words froze in her throat. Kenji took the wise choice and said nothing. Chizuru watched his hands move gently across her sprained ankle for a moment, pausing on the epicenter of her pain. She had only started to realize the feeling of his fingers, lightly calloused from either little training or a lot of working with a wooden sword, when he pulled them away. She bit back the flash of disappointment she felt upon realizing this, averting her eyes to the dark ground when his blue ones met hers. He was still unreadable.

"I used to sprain myself all the time when I was a kid," he finally murmured, breaking the silence. His voice was bordering nostalgia. "My mother taught kendo, and I was her guinea pig for a while..." When he realized his sad tone, he stopped. "But yeah, I know enough about sprains and broken bones."

Had she been inclined to argue, she would have told him she knew plenty about injuries. Chizuru found, much to her chagrin, that she had no room for anger. She was all confusion; that, and a little embarrassment. Seeing past Kenji's harsh words and understanding the underlying action was more surprising than she would have guessed. The usual anger and irritation she felt towards him was gone for a moment, replaced by a blank; a blank that, depending on the young Himura's future actions, would change.

_'I haven't given him enough credit,' _she thought, but even as it formed, she banished it. Enough credit... feh! The idea!

But even as her thoughts threatened to darken, Chizuru sighed, half-contented and half-exhilarated. Kenji's eyes flashed as he blinked up at her, catching her sigh but failing to interpret it. The young Raikoji averted her eyes to her sprain, biting her lip when her eyes, having adjusted to the darkness, caught site of the ugly purple staining her skin. A surprised squeak escaped her when the young Himura's hands pulled at the fabric covering her leg, lifting it slightly. Her suspicions of his being overly friendly were banished when he let it fall again, noting that the bruising from the sprain had not traveled up her leg. Chizuru's eyes narrowed just slightly as she thought of the other bruises - although more faded, they were still there - on her body. She clamped her eyes shut for a moment, hoping that the darkness would cover her facial features. She was not so lucky.

"Something wrong?" he questioned calmly, and she shook her head. He was silent, waiting for a reply; when she made none, he turned back to her ankle. "Can you stand?"

"Yes," she bit out as she grabbed the sides of the incline from which she had fallen for support, dragging herself to her feet. For a moment, Chizuru could've sworn she saw amusement flash through his eyes, but it was gone when she blinked. Her eyes narrowed angrily and she hissed, pained, as she took a step forward. It was shaky, but she was capable. The last thing she wanted was to give the young man an excuse to carry her. Kenji knew her independence, if anything; before she was allowed to complain, he slid his arm under hers, supporting her.

"K-Kenji!" she hissed, pulling away. The young Himura held fast, eyes narrowing.

"Stop screeching, _Chizuru,_" he snapped, adding emphasis to the fact that he had stripped her name of an honorific. If she found them so pointless, he would forego using one for her. She took no notice of it - if she did, it was delivered along with the poisonous glare she gave him - and fell silent.

The two walked through the foliage, keeping their words to themselves; their emotions were hidden behind masks of passiveness. Chizuru found herself glancing at the young Himura every once in a while, using the darkness to cloak the path of her eyes; despite this, she averted her eyes every time she found herself taking in his delicate features. Despite his calloused hands, his face was far from rough. _'Almost like a girl,'_ she mused, then, grudgingly, added, _'A very pretty girl.'_ During her previous arguments with him, all Chizuru had been focusing on was his eyes. Deep blue... not like hers, but a companion in color. Mana had told her, more than once, that the shade of her eyes tended to change when her mood changed. "Bright when you're happy, and dark when you're sad," she had said. Chizuru had then spent a great deal of time studying Mana's eyes, searching for a change, but she found none. Her sister was either perfectly content, or her eyes had lost their spark. She fervently hoped it wasn't the latter. But as her own eyes traveled back to Kenji's, watching them for a moment before looking away once again, Chizuru felt that his would never change.

Was he hiding anything beneath that calm exterior? She found herself pondering this possibility. Was there a monster underneath his irritable words, his cool expression? There seemed to be a monster under every man she had come across. Her father, who had been a kind soul at first, had changed drastically. The proof of this change had been carved into the siblings' minds and into their mother's body; the thought of the beautiful, kind woman that had given birth to them was almost unbearable now. Chizuru remembered her mother, but Mana had a hard time doing so. What triggered the former's memories were the screams she had heard her mother bring forth. Such unsettling thoughts gave way to warm, comforting ones. If she allowed herself to drift in these thoughts long enough, Chizuru would remember her mother vividly: a tall, thin woman with long, black hair. The young Raikoji could remember being cuddled to her mother's chest protectively while calming words were whispered in her ear. She could remember the feel of fabric in her clenched hands as she sobbed, pouring out her troubles to the woman listening.

And then, just as the feeling of being warm and sheltered had started, it was gone. Chizuru bit her lip upon remembering the bruises covering her mother's body, the shallow, pained rise and fall of her chest as she attempted to breathe. Brown, soulful eyes stared up at the child imploringly. She could remember her mother extending a shaky hand, sobbing, pleading, but receiving only one kind of mercy: that of which released her from her pain. After her sobs and pleas came silence. Silence... and the sickening smell of blood.

Chizuru hated the couple of silence and blood, but what she hated more was the pairing of silence and darkness. Her eyes widened as the realization hit her; although it was dark, and neither of them spoke, she felt not the sickening sensation of her lungs tightening. She was not afraid; her heart was not hammering through her chest as it should have been. _'It's because I'm not alone,'_ she thought. Had she said this out loud, she would have been embarrassed.

Chizuru's thoughts were shattered as her ankle throbbed in complaint; she let out a hiss between her teeth, clenching her fists. The noise was barely audible, but Kenji heard it. He looked down at her, blue eyes searching hers. Wordlessly, he led them to the nearest clearing - one sitting on the edge of a very, very steep incline overlooking Kyoto - and allowed Chizuru to put her weight on him as she searched for a comfortable means of sitting. When she had comfortably adjusted herself, he also sat, wordlessly watching the lights of the city flickering below.

"You know," Chizuru finally murmured, breaking the silence, "you would have never done that for me the first time we met." To this, Kenji was silent. When she attempted to catch his eyes, he looked away stubbornly. He killed the guilt before it was allowed to torment him. His silence was nowhere near enough to satisfy the young Raikoji. "But it's happened before, so I guess I shouldn't blame you. I... I've tried running away countless times." She smiled weakly, to which Kenji stubbornly averted his eyes. Were she telling this to a complete stranger, she would be putting herself at risk. She was trusting him with information that, were he not working for her enemies, would endanger her. The young Raikoji coughed nervously, oblivious to his guilt. "I... what I'm trying to say is... thanks. Without you, Mana wouldn't be safe... _I _wouldn't be free."

Kenji chanced a look at her; upon seeing her face, he both regretted it and relished it. Her eyes were bright, reflecting the shadows of the foliage and the lights of the stars. A serene smile curled her lips, and, for a moment, she looked utterly content. Kenji wanted to look away, to silence the sudden pounding through his veins, but he found himself transfixed. He vaguely registered the fact that their faces were inches away from each other, his looking up having caused them to become very close, but it did not matter. Chizuru's smile wavered for a moment as she, too, realized their closeness. She looked away. Kenji found himself dreading the action.

"So," she said casually, changing the subject. "Your last name is Himura, right? Your father wouldn't happen to be _the _Himura Kenshin?" Kenshin instinctively stiffened, but nodded; he hated being compared to his father. Although Chizuru had done nothing to suggest this motive, he knew it was coming. Whenever somebody introduced the subject of his father, Kenji was instantly overshadowed. However, instead of great explanations of shock, the young Raikoji merely mumbled, "Wow. I know a lot about the Hitokiri Battousai... from childhood stories, of course, so I'm not sure if they're real. What's he like as a father?" She grinned. "Ever spanked you with a katana?"

Kenji found, much to his surprise, that he was nowhere near offended by her words. Rather, he found himself suppressing a chuckle. Upon hearing his snort, Chizuru's smile widened. She had managed to brighten his mood. But, despite this, he had not answered her question. As the silence stretched, Kenji realized this, and his smile slowly faded. It was replaced by something akin to... disgust? No. He was tottering on the paper-thin line between self-consciousness and confusion.

"He abandoned a katana long before I was born," he began, unsheathing the sakabatou and allowing Chizuru to pass her hand along the blunt edge. "He... he does the laundry. He cooks most of our food." Upon hearing these womanly tasks being performed by the great Battousai, Chizuru chuckled. Kenji continued, "He wouldn't teach me anything about Hiten Mitsurugi, which is why I'm here. I was raised in a family that respected the principle of not killing, but..." He trailed off, unsure of how to continue.

"...But you doubt that theory," Chizuru finished for him. There was a bitter note to her voice. She met Kenji's eyes again, but this time, there was no smile. They were narrowed seriously; her mouth was drawn into a straight line. "There's nothing heroic about killing people, Kenji." Her look faltered, and she bit her lip, as if trying to forestall her own emotions. "I know that _too_ well."

"You say that, but is that what you think?" he half-snapped, eager to defend himself. Before Chizuru was allowed to reply, he lifted the fabric covering her arm, exposing the ugly bruises. Despite their dark color, her pale skin shown in the moonlight; it made the reality all the uglier. "These were not from an accident. Someone did this to you, and I--" He suddenly stopped, realizing where his words were going. Chizuru's eyes were wide, questioning his knowledge of her past. Almost instantly, he covered her arm again. "...I saw these earlier, when you were showing Mana-san the room."

"I..." She was about to speak when a flash caught her eye, drawing her attention from their conversation; she let out a small gasp as colored fire exploded in the distance above Kyoto. Kenji, too, was transfixed as he watched fires of blue, green, and red bloom in the air with loud _booms_. "It's beautiful," she murmured. "I forgot about the festival." The young Himura said nothing as he watched the fireworks. This time with Chizuru had ensured one thing: he would protect her and her sister. He would be their companion, silent and sheltering, to the young women that had offered him their friendship. He would return that friendship, if only for a short amount of time. His family was in danger; although he did not doubt Kenshin's ability when it came to defending them, he would do everything in his power to ensure their safety.

As the two watched the fireworks mingle with the stars above, Kenji realized that he would risk important things for those which he considered more important. He stared at Chizuru for a moment, averting his eyes when she met his with an inquiring look. She smiled broadly, a smile he suddenly found amazing.

He would risk losing the friendship that he had been given.

He would risk losing the beautiful smile that was uniquely Chizuru's.

xXx

"You spent the whole night in the woods," the old man said, raising an eyebrow, "but you couldn't stop, _in the woods, _to pick up a damn _stump,_ could you?"

Kenji bit back a sarcastic retort, settling with, "Yes, Master. I apologize." He hated it; replying in such a tone made him feel nothing more than monotonous. To this reply, Hiko snorted irritably, crossing his arms in front of him.

"Whatever. Get cooking," he snapped, pointing to the cabin. Kenji's jaw dropped.

"Excuse me... what?" he croaked. Hiko rolled his eyes, jabbing a finger to the cabin behind him.

"Get cooking, stupid pupil!" he snapped. Upon seeing Kenji's dumbfounded look, the thirteenth master's eyes narrowed. "...You _do _know how to cook, right?"

"I... I..." Kenji stuttered, struggling to catch his voice. "I assumed that _you _knew how."

A silence fell upon the two. Chizuru, growing uncomfortable with the tension in the air, shifted from foot to foot. Finally, Hiko sighed, rubbing a hand across his face.

"...I am your superior," he drawled. "True, I may be amazing at swordsmanship. I may have terribly good looks, but if there's one thing I lack, it's the ability to cook." He stopped; when he caught site of Kenji's unbelieving face, he snorted. "How _else _do you think your stupid father learned how to cook? While he was wandering?" To this, Kenji nodded dumbly. "Feh. He would have died one week in."

Were Kenji inclined to speak like his father, he would have oro'd. Instead, he bit his tongue, forcing himself to remember exactly why he was here and how much Hiten Mitsurugi would help in the end. "How did you survive all those years without my father, then?"

"One learns how to manipulate people in Kyoto. Some people who own and in owe me; they bring me food once a month, but I'm getting sick of the same thing. Cook something."

"Good morning..." A weary voice murmured, and the three of them turned in the direction of the cabin. Mana had walked out, decked in naught but a sleeping yukata, wiping the sleep from her eyes and yawning. Upon realizing that everybody around her was suspiciously quiet, she stopped, eyes wide. "What?"

"Mana-ne, we need breakfast," Chizuru mumbled, stepping forward and dragging her sister into the cabin. Mana did not so much as squeak in reply. Hiko and Kenji stared at each other, dumbfounded. Chizuru stopped abruptly; turning, she faced the man that was old enough to be her grandfather and the boy that she was learning more about every day. "Boys, if you can just sit patiently and promise not to fight, I'll make sure you get dessert." Then she slammed the door. Kenji felt like a child who had been spanked, scolded, and sent off to bed. Hiko merely snorted.

"Reminds me of your mother," he muttered, then sat on the bench next to the fire. He plucked a cup from the embers, eyeing it critically. Kenji, hesitant to do anything that might ruin his master's temporary mood, remained where he stood. Hiko turned from his cup, staring at the boy for a moment. He quirked an eyebrow irritably. "My favorite stool may be gone, but I suppose you can sit on the ground. It won't do anything to harm your..." He looked the boy from head to toe, noting the obvious dirt with distaste. "...predicament." Kenji suppressed a groan and sat - somewhat nervously - next to the man.

"Thank you," he finally said. Hiko merely sighed, as if the idea of training another pupil bored him, and rotated the cup in his hands, eyeing the clay surface critically.

"Don't," he almost snapped. "If I see anything your father showed me - a willingness to join a conflict in order to bring some false idea of salvation - I will dismiss you. I don't want you coming back to me in a few years, begging for me to forgive you for some stupid mistake. If only for the sake of showing your father what a dumbass he made, I'll beat you over the head a few times before dropping you."

"You needn't worry," Kenji said coolly, turning his gaze to the embers. "I have no intention of becoming my father." When thinking about his own words, he realized that he did not understand himself; there were many sides to his father. What one was he trying to avoid? The killer? The kind, gentle rurouni? Was there even a difference? As the young Himura stared into the dying flames, watching the tongues of red and yellow collide, he realized that he, like Yousaku, preferred amber to blue.

"Guilty until proven innocent," the older man returned cryptically. "You're a child; you don't know your intentions." And before Kenji could argue, he handed him the cup. "Paint something on it, and give it to that girl."

The young Himura stared at the cup, wanting both to accept it and reject it; embarrassment and indignance kept him from wanting to give it to Chizuru, but a bolder side of him didn't care in the least. What gave off those vibes, anyway? As far as he could tell, the only tension the two projected was that of anger. And this was only from his point of view. What would Chizuru think? She was independent, free-spirited... being told that she belonged to anyone would anger her, and in a more serious situation, break her. He had just formed a shaky friendship with the girl. He didn't want _anyone_ - least of all her - assuming that he was possessive.

Chizuru was more angering than endearing. She was constantly tottering on the line between rage and bliss. She was not beautiful; even Ayame and Suzume, who were a few years his senior and constantly flirted or doted, were more attractive. But neither was she ugly. For everything Kenji would find attractive about a woman, Chizuru was the opposite of it. But even so, their interaction earlier had been strange. If anything, it was a miracle that they had managed not to argue. Kenji did not know how he had managed to keep his half.

"You're reading too much into this, boy. It's just a cup."

Kenji nodded mutely, his train of thought shattered. He took the clay item in his hands, feeling the warmth it gave off. His facial features made no change as he looked it over, but in his mind, Chizuru was happily thanking him for the present. He shook his head, a frown marring his face. He _was _reading into it too much.

It was, after all, just a cup.

xXx

"Where were you, Chizuru-ne?" Mana questioned, her eyes reflecting the worry she had felt earlier. Chizuru looked at her sister blankly, shrugging.

"I had to go to the bathroom," she said. It wasn't a lie. A blush colored her face as she attempted to cut the vegetables into perfect pieces. "And I... got lost."

"Oh," Mana murmured, looking back to her own portion of vegetables. Her pieces were perfectly even, and she continued as if it were no problem at all. Chizuru stared enviously at her, then sighed. She was not a bad cook - their mother had taught them a good deal of womanly habits before certain events had caused her to pass on - but she was nothing in comparison to her sister. Where Mana delighted in arranging flowers and cooking meals, Chizuru was clumsy and unorganized. The only thing remotely feminine she could do was tie the knot on her obi. Other than that, she was more manly than womanly. It was embarrassing.

"Chizuru-ne, the chunks are getting a little uneven..."

"Oh," said sister murmured, looking down to the mangled vegetables. She swore under her breath as she slowly attempted to get herself back on track. Mana voiced her approval quietly; she knew of her prowess in the kitchen, but she was never one to brag. Instead of doing so, she kept a vigilant eye on her sister, pointing out her mistakes and helping her to correct them.

"And Kenji-san found you?"

"Yeah..." Chizuru answered casually, her focus slowly going from the food to the boy in question. Had she been paying more attention, she would have noticed the small smile curling Mana's lips.

"You seem much more friendly with him than you did earlier."

Something akin to a whimper tore from Chizuru's lip as the knife, controlled by her suddenly sweaty fingers, jumped from the vegetables and nicked her forefinger. Her brows knitted together as she winced slightly, caught off guard. Mana made to move towards her, but she held up a hand, sucking on her finger.

"I-I'm so sorry," Mana croaked, her eyes large with worry. Chizuru plucked the wounded finger from her mouth, gripping it with her hand with enough pressure to stop the blood.

"It's nothing, Mana-ne," she said casually. Then, upon remembering why she had cut herself in the first place, her eyes narrowed. "Why do people make those assumptions?"

"Assumptions?"

"In this era, you're either a whore or you have to belong to somebody," the other sister spat, releasing her finger to find her hand caked in blood. She rolled her eyes and re-applied the pressure, mentally scolding herself for releasing the cut so quickly. "If you're neither of these things, it makes you eligible for some scum-faced _ass _to--" She cut herself off, stiffening. "Sorry, Mana-ne. I didn't mean to be crude."

"It's who you are," Mana said simply, her smile returning. "I wouldn't want my sister any other way." Chizuru cocked an eyebrow, but smiled nonetheless; Mana's words, even though they sounded a little corny, were comforting. Her sister, who was so innocent and yet knew of many terrible things that happened to her, was speaking the only way she really could: without a trace of sin. Chizuru often found herself taking great wonder at her sister. Mana continued, "I'm sorry. My remark threw you off."

"Your remar--..." Chizuru cut herself off as something between anger and embarrassment tinged her cheeks a pink color. "Whatever. I'm just... sick of arguing, you know?" Mana nodded good-naturedly. Chizuru's voice became more determined as she spoke. "What's wrong with trying to be friends with him? If he's been looking after you, he must not be all that bad." As she said the last words, Chizuru felt her throat go dry. Could they really trust Kenji? But even as she thought of doubts, they were banished; as far as Mana was concerned, she had bumped into a boy who would soon become her greatest friend.

_"Do you deserve friends?"_

Chizuru's eyes snapped wide open, and she glanced over to her sister, who was pleasantly gathering the chopped vegetables and bringing the boiling water over from the fire. It took her a moment to realize that it had not been her sister talking, but her own conscience. The young Raikoji released her finger from her iron grip; the blood had clotted and stopped, but the tourniquet itself was smeared with crimson. Before her sister could question her actions, Chizuru turned and briskly left the cabin. Mana protested weakly, confusion flickering in her eyes; she was about to follow, but when she saw a confused Kenji rise and follow, she stopped.

_'Chizuru-ne...'_

Chizuru took off at a surprisingly quick walk, despite the restrictions her muddy kimono offered and the obvious limp to her injured ankle. Kenji, surprised with her sudden departure, allowed no room for Hiko's remarks. He stood abruptly and followed. His ears vaguely registered a snort from behind him, but he dismissed it.

"Chizuru!" he called, but she did not answer. She merely continued to plow noisily through the foliage, taking no notice of her surroundings. Kenji heard her swear once or twice after stumbling, but other than that, she moved along without hindrance. "Chizuru!" Again she did not answer, and Kenji sucked in his breath with great irritation. How was it that he could not keep up with her? Yousaku was faster, and yet the thrill of the hunt always had him keeping up. For a brief moment, he dared himself into thinking that the girl ahead of him was some sort of prey, and his speed dramatically increased; he clamped his hand around her wrist in an iron grip. "What's going on?"

"...Let go, Kenji," she simply said. There was no emotion in her voice - no anger, irritation, not the pathetic sobs he had found himself expecting - it was merely firm, commanding. Kenji found his grip suddenly slackening, but he did nothing to stop it from leaving her wrist. Chizuru did not meet his eyes.

"You shouldn't run around on that ankle," he finally said, breaking the silence. "If you leave it alone, it will take a day or two of limping, but you'll be fine--"

"What do _you_ care?" she snapped, whirling around to meet him. Her eyes were vaguely angry, but underneath her anger was obvious confusion. The question was partial sarcasm, but it was also sincere. "I don't even _know _you."

Kenji was caught a bit off guard by these words, but he was silent; he feared that the wrong words would send her off on another tirade. But it seemed that if his words would not satisfy her, then neither would his silence. Chizuru's hands balled into fists and shook as she stared at him, trying in vain to uncover the falseness she had been trying to find ever since she had met him. Upon realizing that she could not find it but still expected it, Kenji's stomach twisted with guilt; it was there, as she had been expecting. But she couldn't pinpoint his secret. As he thought this, he watched her eyes dull just slightly, as if in defeat; she lowered her head.

"I... I don't get you, Kenji," she muttered. "I hate that."

"You can be just as confusing," he countered, slightly defensive. He heard something of a broken laugh escape the girl.

"A fine pair we are," she murmured. When she saw his eyes widen just slightly, she flushed and waved a hand. "Not like that, moron."

"You could have fooled me."

"What? Would you like it that way?" she shot back. Her eyes widened as she once again registered the meaning of her words. She looked away, irritation and embarrassment shining clearly on her features. Had Kenji been in a better mood, he would have sneered, but he found himself more confused than relieved. Why had she run off in the first place?

"You're behaving strangely," he offered blandly, to which the girl laughed again.

"Observant, aren't you?"she said dryly. The smile she wore was tinged with sadness. Although it not the sadness he dreaded - the one that would bring him forth red-handed and brand him a traitor - it was still unnerving. Kenji took a hesitant step forward, to which Chizuru took two more. The young Himura sighed; if they continued this, they would be half-way down the mountain by noon.

"Chizuru," he said firmly, to which she stopped moving entirely. There was no reply, save for the sigh she gave, accompanied by a slight inclining of her head. Her fists unclenched as if in defeat. "Tell me what's wrong."

"I... I don't know," she muttered, turning and staring back at him. "But I just... I'm not a good person," she finally settled with, bundling the fabric of her sullied kimono in her hands. "I want you to know that."

_'I know that,'_ he thought sadly; it was not that he was berating her, but he could already sense what she was planning on saying. He already _knew _what she was leading up to. Chizuru, it seemed, was not going to pity him.

"How much do you know about Mana-ne and myself?" she questioned hesitantly. "How much did she tell you?"

"Tell me?" he finally managed, his stony features masking his shame. "Not much, but... something about you being on the run." He could not believe himself; it was as if the words were already on his tongue, waiting to leap off without consent from the mouth from which they were born. He loathed his own lack of control.

"I guess I better tell you, then," she murmured, averting her eyes to the ground. "Since you... you've been kind to my sister. You've guarded her, and for that, I'm grateful." Her words were nervous, yet sounded so mechanical. But she pressed on. "Kenji..."

_'Shut up,' _he wanted to scream, but he held his tongue. _'I don't want to hear you confess this sort of thing to me.'_

"...It's not just a bunch of punks my sister and I are running from," she began nervously. "It's some sort of... organization... but I can't say I know the name. But they're smart, and they have their eyes set on a different Japan." A silence descended upon the two; Kenji took a moment to realize that Chizuru was waiting for some sort of reaction. Any person who had not been informed of such things earlier (by the people running this "organization") would have thought her crazy. Was that what she was expecting from him?

"Oh," he finally said, to which the Raikoji girl exhaled in something between a sigh of relief and irritation.

"_Now _you're quiet," she muttered, but before he could interject, she continued. "Whatever. That's not important. What _is _important is that Mana-ne and I have information... information they want. But because we haven't given anything away yet - well, bits and pieces, probably, but nothing really worth it - they've kept us around."

"What kind of information?" Kenji finally questioned, releasing the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Chizuru's blue orbs left his, preferring to meet with the unquestioning ground; she shifted uncomfortably, tight-lipped. He suddenly realized that this was, indeed, a great trouble for her. How long had she kept this secret? And from whom? What methods had been used to ingrain this information into their minds? The last few questions caused him to add the question, "Who told you?"

"Our... our father," she murmured, obviously glad to have an easier question to answer. But even the way she spoke of her father suggested she despised him. The curl of her lip, the narrowing of her eyes; everything advertised bitterness. "And he was in no way kind when telling us." Her eyes widened as she spoke; she clapped a hand to her mouth, as if to forestall the inevitable, but she had already spoken. Kenji neared her questioningly.

"What did he do?"

"Nothing," she muttered, but upon catching his eyes - intensely questioning, refusing to relent - she let out another sigh. She attempted to escape the situation, "Let's go back for breakfast--"

"Tell me. Now," he ordered, to which her eyes flared with brief anger.

"Mana-ne was always a little frail, but Father made it worse," she hissed, evading details. "If he hadn't interfered with her health, she would be nearly as healthy as me. But _I_--" She paused for a second, referring to herself with a great deal of disgust, _"I'm_ supposedly traumatized. Good ol' _Daddy_ preferred the mental game with me. I can't stand the quiet... I can't stand that, or dark, closed places. It will suffocate me." Although it was obvious that she was trying to say this casually, there was a slight hitch to her voice. Her anger dropped from her features, suggesting something a bit more sad; Kenji knew what she was going to say, and felt dread clawing at him. "In the group - the one that's after the information Father gave us - I... I'm not a pure _maiden, _you might say." There was no blush. No suggestion that she was embarrassed. She was sickened with herself. The last words were a murmur, "I'm disgusting."

"You..." Kenji began, eager to challenge her words. "You're not... you don't disgust me." When her eyes widened and she stared at him, he hurriedly added, "Not that way. You can be annoying, and you're too stubborn, but I..." He, too, averted his eyes. But his actions were out of embarrassment, rather than disgust. "I can't be sickened by you."

Chizuru stared at him for a moment; it was obvious enough that she had been expecting a different reaction. Kenji felt a jab of hurt run through him - was he _that _untrustworthy? - but he bit back any offending words. He had spoken the truth. Her mouth formed an "O" for a split second as she searched for words, but she finally managed to say something, although inaudible. Kenji quirked an eyebrow, confused.

"I... thanks," she finally mumbled. Her eyes flashed again as she looked up, "Not that I'm whining." Kenji indulged himself with a small smile as he gently gripped her shoulder, leading her back towards the cabin. It was in no way a pleasant means of leading her; both were as tense as they could possibly be. But neither broke the contact.

As they continued to walk back, the young Himura realized that Chizuru had cleverly evaded his first question: What exactly had they been told? What kind of information could be so important that it endangered Japan? As Kenji pondered such things, he reasoned with himself. It was probably not Japan that was in danger of falling; no, rather, the Japanese government. The era of Meiji was still considerably weak. The men who had torn it down were just beginning to realize that giving birth to a new era was much more difficult than killing the old one.

_'Do I even want to know what they've been told?' _he thought suddenly. If all the information were surrendered to him, neither Mana or Chizuru would be of any use to the organization he was working for. He chanced a look at the girl; she glanced back, eyes questioning his. He looked away. These people he worked for... was their goal a better Japan? A stronger one? It was a tempting ideal. But what of the Raikoji sisters? Was he willing to risk the shaky friendship he had worked to build?

_"I'm disgusting."_

_'No, Chizuru. You have no idea how pure you are,' _he thought darkly. It was he who was sickening; he, who would one day betray these people in favor of their enemies. In favor of the people who had wronged them so horribly. Someone who had been abused in the name of satisfying another's lust was in no way disgusting. _'You should be sickened by me.'_

_"...thanks."_

Kenji banished her words from his mind, narrowing his eyes. Her appreciation was unconditional. It was wrong._ 'You're naivete may very well be your undoing... that, or your courage.'_

But he knew, deep in his his mind, that it would be his false friendship that would break her.

_to be continued..._

_A/N: The beginning of the chapter was random, but the insane thought of Rei going to China at such a young age brought on my thoughts: How many children are forced to fight? It's a really sad thought, and although it probably doesn't happen much where I come from, it does happen. I'm not trying to get back at you reviewers in any way; I love getting reviews, believe me. A great majority of authors like getting reviews. _

_I'm really glad I was finally able to get some Kenji/Chizuru time in, there:D I hope to deepen their relationship, but I'm going to put plenty of obstacles in their way. I'm too mean to give them a completely happy ending (and believe me, the ending is NOT near. Sorry). _

_I'm really glad that some of you dislike Kenji's attitude; it makes him seem a little more human to me, but I do intend on punishing him. Funny, isn't it? The authoress gets away with writing bad things on the characters, and it's the characters that get the punishment. Hu hu hu... :K I HOPE to put a little action in the next chapter, but I'm not guaranteeing anything._


	10. Defend and Forsake

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin.**

"...Not half bad," Hiko snorted as he swallowed the rest of his chicken. Mana beamed in reply, to which the thirteenth master of Hiten Mitsurugi merely inclined his head lightly. Allowing the young Raikoji to feel some degree of pride did not bother him; rather, it was allowing certain stupid pupils to do so. The old man smirked upon thinking of the countless times he had berated Kenshin for his "horrible cooking". The memory of the short, thin red-head protesting weakly to this treatment caused a rumbling laugh to echo from his chest.

"Something wrong, Seijuro-sama?" Mana questioned. The honorific was added on for the sake of Kenji's pride - he did not like to be the only one addressing the man formally, it seemed - something Hiko appreciated immensely. "Is the food hurting your throat?"

"No, nothing," he said, waving it off. "How long have you been cooking?"

"Um... ever since I was a child, I suppose," she answered blandly. "Our mother taught me." To this, Hiko merely nodded. Mana let a sigh ghost through her lips; starting a conversation with this man was slightly difficult. It was all about her cooking, which, it seemed, interested him greatly. If not for that topic, they would both be tight-lipped.

"..._Tempura?!_ Mana-ne, why didn't you tell me? I wouldn't have been here a lot faster," Chizuru's excited voice erupted from the foliage, followed soon by its owner; she plunked herself down next to her sister, using the large ladle Hiko was currently holding to spoon herself some of the fish-and-vegetable meal. She glanced sideways at the old man. "I didn't know you had the right ingredients."

"I had to substitute one or two," Mana said quickly, eyes downcast. "You might notice a slight change in the flavor... And Kenji-san had to get some fish from the stream, but it's not exactly seafood..." To this, Chizuru waved a hand casually, taking a bite out of the fish and smiling contentedly. Kenji, who had arrived soon after Chizuru, stared at the food with wide eyes.

"This looks great, Mana-san," he said, to which said Raikoji smiled.

"You can make nikujaga for lunch," Hiko suddenly commanded, to which the three youth whirled around to stare at him, dumbfounded. Seeing the look he was getting, Seijuro shrugged his massive shoulders, eyes questioning.

"We'll be _leaving _after breakfast, thank you," Kenji sad in a barely-suppressed hiss. Chizuru audibly sighed; Mana did not so much as squeak. The thirteenth master of Hiten Mitsurugi rose an eyebrow quizzically, his eyes probing Kenji's. In order to clarify, the young Himura continued, "We have rooms down in Kyoto."

"You're sharing rooms with that moron?" By now, Hiko's attention had gone completely from Kenji to the Raikoji sisters, both of which who blushed and protested furiously. The old man, however, waved a hand casually and stood, having finished his meal. "It's none of my concern, but I know both of you have the brains God gave gravel... which should be efficient enough to make you aware of this boy's lack of manly prowess."

Kenji whirled on the man, indignant but not quite daring enough to challenge his words. He wasn't about to announce his "prowess", just to have it shot down by the arrogant man. He was silent for a moment, desperately trying to find something to say, when Chizuru laughed brightly; it distracted their attention.

"The Gion Festival is also starting, Hiko-san," she said, an unusual, calming lilt to her voice. "It's our favorite event. You should come down to see."

"Pass," he said casually, "I never liked festivals. But you," he whirled upon Kenji, pointing a demanding finger in his direction, "will get me some good sake while you're down there."

"Master..." But even as Kenji protested, he knew resistance was futile. The only thing that matched this man's ego was his love for the drink. And he, apparently, was suffering no damage to his life. _'Hiten is the secret to eternal youth,' _he told himself, over and over. It was an explanation for the old man's behavior which, if the sparse stories his father had told him, were true.

xXx

"Geez, Shinta. Haven't you worked a day in your life? And you, Shinya. What's with that scowl? Get off your butt and keep scrubbing," Rei chimed as she sped past the boys, both of which who were sitting to the side with their chests heaving. She left a trail of moisture in her wake, left by the wash-cloth she had in her hands. Her long sleeves, pants-legs, and hair were pulled back to keep them from interfering with her work. She stopped, raising an eyebrow, and stood. Ai, who had been diligently scrubbing the floor, kept working. "Even Ai-chan is working harder than you!"

"Keh," Shinta grumbled. Shinya, who was watching the young Himura daughter work with rapt interest, was silent. The second son continued, "Ai's a workaholic. And besides, what kind of _man _cleans floors? It's a woman's job."

"Do you expect your sister to just keel over from _karoshi_? And besides," she continued before the young Himura was allowed to question her words, "your father cleans floors," Rei reminded him coolly, allowing a sneer to curl her lip when Shinta made a noise akin to a croak. "And clothes. And dishes. _And_-"

"I get it, I get it!" Shinta snapped, standing and massaging his red knees before returning to the abandoned dish-cloth in the middle of the floor. Shinya followed with an irritated sigh, catching it in his throat immediately when Ai turned on him with questioning, doe-like eyes. Both boys joined the girls on the floor, lining up with their dish-rags in hand. Rei resumed her crouching position and they followed, half-running, half-pushing them across the floor. Rei and Ai quickly gained distance between the two, but just as Shinta was about to halt, the young ninja turned on him with a knowing stare. He killed the thought before it was allowed to become an action and added a burst of speed to his work.

"...I don't understand why we have to work," Shinya finally muttered after they had finished with the floor. The group was seated at the side of the room, each finishing some of the watermelon Misao had brought in a while ago. Rei stood triumphantly before it, her hands planted on her hips. "We're guests, after all. Right, Ai?" The object of his affection's name came out a little shaky, bereft of an honorific. Everyone but Ai seemed to notice it, but said girl's reaction was a bit different than what he had expected.

"...I like work," she murmured, glancing quickly over to her brother, fearful of his teasing. Shinta was silent. Summoning a bit of courage, she continued, "It gives me a sense of control and calms me down." She nibbled on her watermelon tentatively.

"And you're really good at it, to boot," Rei mused, staring at the patch of floor Ai had been working on. She turned on the girl, a knowing twinkle in her eye and a sneer curling her lip, "I bet you'll make someone an amazing wife, some day." To this, Shinya, who had been gobbling down his snack with gusto, sputtered. He hacked and coughed roughly, pounding his chest while a snickering Shinta slammed his fists down on his back. After the watermelon finally complied with the young Myogin's throat, Rei rose an eyebrow knowingly at him. "Something wrong, Shinya-kun?"

"N-nothing," he sputtered, his face darkening to a reddish color. Before either of the troublemakers were allowed to question his discomfort, the shoji door slid open to reveal Misao and Kaoru. Both mothers' eyes widened as they took in the wonderful condition of the floor. Misao strode forward, examining the floor, her hands on her hips. Although she and Rei looked very different when it came to their eyes and hair, their body language suggested mother-daughter relation.

"This isn't half-bad, kids!" she announced, more to the empty room than to the kids in question. Shinta snorted loudly, but the Shinomori wife ignored it. "As a reward, I'll take you to the festival tonight!"

"We were already planning on going," Shinta half-snapped, a challenging note in his voice. Kaoru glared, but he continued, oblivious to her growing anger. "And we _would _have gone last night, but _you _wanted us to scrub dishes! And we've spent all morning cleaning your halls!" Misao was silent for a moment, but when she turned, her eyes sparkled with something akin to obsession - dangerous obsession, it seemed. Realizing what situation he had backed himself into, Shinta looked to his mother for assistance, but Kaoru merely busied herself with her daughter's hair.

"The thing is, Shinta-kun," Misao began, looming dangerously close, "Kaoru-san has given me permission to use you to my liking... namely, cleaning my inn." Said boy once again looked to his mother, but there was no pleading in his gaze. His mouth formed an "o", while his eyes probed hers for an answer. Kaoru looked up from her doting to sneer. Misao continued, oblivious to their exchange, "You're working to keep your rooms."

"I thought they were on the house!" he interjected, but the Shinomori merely shook her head cockily. One hand remained on her hip while the other patted the young Himura's head fondly.

"Your _parents, _the rooster, and Megumi-san are getting their rooms free," she corrected. "_You, _however, aren't. If it weren't for little Ai-chan, you'd have already been kicked out."

"But... but..."

"No 'buts'," Misao ordered, grinning broadly. "Tonight'll be amazing... we'll be leaving in couples, tho'. I'm in no mood to look after you." Kaoru nodded as if to agree. "Rei, Shinta-kun, you'll look after Aoko for me? I want to spend a wonderful night with my Aoshi-sama..." Misao appeared to drift off; apparently, the crush that had triggered her love for her husband had not faded in the least. Shinta could have sworn he saw drool sliding down her lip, but he said nothing. For a moment, all was silent; Shinya coughed, uncomfortable, and the Shinomori wife was brought quickly back to reality. "Ahem... anyway. Kaoru-san and Himura, Rei, Shinta-kun, and Aoko, Shinya and Ai-chan... it's perfect, no?" The gleam in her eyes was just a little too knowing.

"Why're you suddenly willing to let us go around in Kyoto by ourselves?" Shinta asked, whirling in Kaoru's direction. She had, before this festival, always been a bit too attentive towards her children.

"Rei-chan knows how to defend herself," she countered, grinning smugly. "Don't worry, Shinta. She'll protect you from the thugs." Amidst the young Himura's protests, Kaoru continued, "Shinya-kun is one of my best students. You can make sure to look after Ai, can't you?" To this, Shinya nodded, his face still a furious red. Kaoru clapped her hands happily. "Then it's settled. We'll give you a bit of money to amuse yourselves with."

"So, I'm stuck babysitting Aoko and Rei?" Shinta demanded, still indignant. The thought of being looked after by a girl was offensive. "Sounds like it'll be a riot." The sarcasm in his voice was easily recognized.

"It's more like Rei-chan will be babysitting _you_," Kaoru corrected tartly, to which Rei and Shinya sniggered. Shinta whirled in their direction; although he had no means of shutting the young Shinomori up, dealing with Shinya was a breeze. He had enough dirt on the young Myogin to keep him under his heel for a lifetime, despite how insane it sounded. As he caught site of Shinta's withering glare, Shinya fell silent, resisting the urge to stick out his tongue childishly.

"Get up, then!" Kaoru said, clapping her hands again. "Chop, chop! We're going to get dressed."

"We haven't even had dinner yet," Shinta argued. "It's not even dark out." To this, Kaoru exchanged a mischevious look with Misao; before any of the children knew what was happening, they were being hauled up by their respective mothers. Rei and Ai complied with no hesitation - they were either as excited as their mothers, or they knew it was foolish to spark their wraths - but neither Shinta or Shinya went willingly. Being that Tsubame and Yahiko were back in Tokyo, Misao took care of him; she said these words with another dangerous glint lighting her eyes.

Shinta found himself leaning against a wall, an eyebrow quirked as his mother went through kimonos and gis like a woman possessed. She stopped suddenly fishing out one - a kimono for Ai, no doubt - and searched her daughter's eyes with her questioning blue ones. Ai, in a silent reply, merely nodded. Kaoru beamed and held the kimono up to her daughter, matching the sizes and mumbling incoherent words about matching colors and whatnot; Shinta did not care to listen in. It was a creation of the finest silk, a light blue kimono with deep plum blossoms patterned across the bottom. Other flowers were deep shades of blue and purple lining the sleeves and some across the chest, but the edges of these flowers were too soft; Shinta could not pick out the types. He rolled his eyes; he had never liked botany. To match the kimono, Ai found an obi of a deep violet shade; the whole setup did a very nice job of complimenting her eyes and darker features. It was only when Kaoru praised her daughter, who had been staring at them questioningly, her face set like that of a Buddha, did the child smile.

Shinta had always preferred a regular gi and hakama - it was simple to wear, and required no terribly complex knots - and when Kaoru presented him with something looking akin to these clothes, he released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. The hakama was grey, and the gi... The young Himura's eyes lit up just briefly as his mother traced her fingers across the collar, telling him stories about how his father had used to wear dark blue. When he pulled it on and secured the edges beneath his hakama, she beamed.

"You look so much like your father," she murmured wistfully, to which Shinta did not know how to react. "You were named after him, you know."

The first time she had told him that, he had been baffled. _"How is that?" _he had asked. _"Dad's name is Kenshin."_

_"But his first name was Shinta,"_ Kaoru had replied quietly, scanning him with her eyes, as if picking out the details that made him look like his father. And there were many; from his red hair to his short stature, which seemed to be something of a curse in the Himura family. Hadn't his grandfather on his mother's side been tall? He would never know; he had never had grandparents. Not that it bothered him.

The last thing she added was a long, black coat. Shinta, despite himself, admired the quality; Kaoru told him that it was the formal wear of samurai. Then, before he could argue, she pulled his hair into a pony-tail at the top of his head - just for experimenting, she told him - and practically squealed when she completed it. Shinta turned to admire himself in the mirror; his hair was not as long as his father's had been when he was a hitokiri, but nonetheless, his breath caught in his throat. He had never seen his father during the time in which he had been a manslayer - and if his father's silence about the matter was anything, it was not a thing to ask freely - but he knew that, despite this, he did indeed look like Kenshin.

"Do you want to keep the pony-tail up?" Kaoru asked, catching the amazement in his eyes as he stared at his reflection. Shinta nodded numbly. His mother grinned broadly as she picked up the rejected clothing, folding them neatly and putting them back in their respective drawers. "All right, we'll have a quick meal, and then get going... be careful with those clothes, though. No food stains."

"I'm not a baby, Mom," he began cautiously, but Kaoru was already gone. Shrugging casually, he slid the shoji door open to see Shinya - who had opened another door at the other end of the room Shinta was entering - staring at Ai, who was in the center. The daughter of the Himuras blinked obliviously, a small smile curling her lips.

"You both look so handsome," she said politely. Shinta told her she looked decent, and Shinya, hardly able to murmur a coherent word, nodded furiously in reply. To him, "decent" was a gross understatement. He had always thought her pretty, but now, seeing her in such formal wear, he thought she was absolutely stunning. Shinya paled at the knowing look he caught Shinta giving him, accompanied by a pair of thumbs raised in his direction.

"Did you bring a bokken?"

"A b-... what?" he stammered vaguely, hardly able to register the words she spoke so much as the sound of her voice.

"A bokken, Shinya-kun," she repeated, tilting her head to one side. Her hair followed the motion of her head, swaying like a sheet of ebony. Suddenly the boy became aware of the purpose of the wooden sword in his hand, and, clenching it to make sure he did not drop it, he nodded furiously. Ai's eyes widened slightly as she took in his red face. "Are you feeling unwell, Shinya-kun?"

"He's perfectly fine," Shinta said smoothly, sneering and raising an eyebrow. "He's just lucky he's too naive to think _certain_ thoughts... if that were happening, you'd have to hope his pants were baggy enou--" But the young Himura was cut off as Shinya lunged and - much like his father before him - bit the head of his offender. Shinta gasped, "Holy crap! Down, boy!"

"Um, you shouldn't fight--!"

Before she could continue, Shinya immediately released Shinta's head and grabbed her by the wrist, hauling the stunned girl from the room. Once they had successfully run down the hall (successfully being used in the sentence because Ai wasn't moving at all, therefore forcing Shinya to pull her), the young Myogin released her hand, looking down apologetically.

"Sorry, Ai-chan," he said, dipping his head forward in a bow. "I just... I, uh..." He trailed off, mumbling incoherent curses for his lack of verbal use. Ai indulged the both of them in a laugh, and Shinya looked up, his eyes wide and questioning.

"We should get to dinner," she said, violet eyes shining. Shinya nodded mutely, following her in the direction of the dinner hall.

xXx

"I can't believe it took us so long to get back!" Chizuru moaned, sitting down on a nearby bench. She eyed her kimono sleeves distastefully. "I look like a wreck."

"If Master hadn't insisted we stay to make lunch..." Kenji trailed off, sighing and sitting down next to her. Mana followed suite; the three of them looked like peasants. The worst of the three was Chizuru, who had stumbled when returning to the cabin. Her limp had hindered their trek back down the mountain, but, with Kenji and Mana swapping places when it came to supporting the reluctant Raikoji, they had made it before night.

"I've never met a more arrogant bastard," Chizuru snapped, then paused and stared at Kenji for a moment. "But you come pretty close."

"Thanks," the sarcasm in his voice was only too detectable. He narrowed his eyes at her, snorting. "You seemed polite enough when you were at the cabin."

"I didn't want him to kick you out because of me," she said, sniffing. It was only after she said it did she realize the meaning of her words, but she remained silent; Kenji quirked an eyebrow at her.

"So, you were _defending_ me? How sweet," he sneered, to which she playfully punched his shoulder. In a matter of days, their behavior towards each other had changed drastically: they had gone from loathing each other's guts to playful verbal arguments. Despite the fact that they sometimes grew trully angry with each other, often resulting in barbed, angry snaps, the anger usually didn't last long. The young Raikoji was merely guessing this, however; she had only seen them behave like this for a few hours now. With luck, it would continue. Mana smiled lightly, concealing her face behind her arms as she matted out her messy hair. As soon as they returned to the inn, they would clean up. Then, they would see if Chizuru was up to walking around town. As much as she hated to admit in, she was in pain; she had declined taking their support on the way down the mountain at first, but after seeing her obviously pained limp, Kenji had offered her a piggy-back. She had refused hurriedly, so the young Himura had settled for the next best thing: offering her a shoulder to lean on while they walked. Mana had, of course, made small comments about their improved behavior towards each other, but both had denied it and started arguing, as if doing so could banish her suspicions.

"The Yun-ya is a few blocks away," Chizuru finally murmured, standing shakily. Kenji moved to support her, but she turned on him with such a withering glare that he stopped. She looked away, her eyes narrowed. Despite her angry mask, her voice was sheepish, "I... I don't want people staring." To this, the young Himura merely snorted and ignored her protests, sliding his arm under hers in a means of supporting her.

"People are already staring," Mana murmured, as if to comfort her sister. "We're kind of... a mess." To this, Chizuru snorted and Kenji nodded, somewhat distraught. Mana's eyes widened as the inn came into view. "Chizuru-ne, there's the Yun-ya..."

"Finally!" she gasped, abandoning Kenji's support and running towards the inn with the speed unlikely for an "invalid" (as he had so curtly put it when he was attempting to help her). The young Himura sighed, checked on the second sister, and followed her. Mana watched him leave with a smile; it seemed that those were all she could manage, now. Seeing Chizuru interact with someone besides herself brought endless joy. Before they had met Kenji, Chizuru was only able to speak with her sister... for however brief a time that was. Ever since their father had changed, they had been separated and rejoined many times. She could remember her reflection (with a few differences even in childhood) stumbling up to her brokenly, leaning against her, and sobbing. That brief moment had been enough to tell Mana that Chizuru was not as strong as she seemed; granted, she was very strong, but not so much to allow her to ignore their abusive father and helpless mother.

After their mother died, something within Chizuru had changed; for a moment, she had been standing on the thin line between sanity and insanity. For months she had been silent, stone-faced, unable to smile. It was only when their father had attempted to reinforce his usual means of mental torture that Chizuru snapped. Mana could remember her sister, kicking and screaming as their father shoved her into the closet. Incessant banging had followed soon after, accompanied by further screams. From then on, the mentally tortured girl had grown into a strong young woman, protecting her sister at every turn. She had never touched a sword - both sisters would never do so, for their father had used a sword for a majority of his life - but she had learned some hand-to-hand combat.

After their father had "mysteriously" died, Chizuru and Mana had fled their home with the knowledge that people would come looking for them. The information that had been pounded into their minds, beaten into their mental capacities with cruel punishment in wait for those who snitched, was too valuable for just anyone to know. Chizuru had used the last of their money to buy a ticket for Mana. _"Go to Tokyo,"_ she had told her, refusing her protests. _"Contact the police... no, on second thought, don't. Just find a way to get out of Japan. I can't pay for a boat to China, but if you get a job..."_

Mana had, unwillingly, left for Tokyo while Chizuru hid out in Kyoto. For years after, the status of both sisters fluctuated; they were captured often, but it seemed that their captors, like their father, preferred the mental game. It was cat and mouse, with them... they would allow them to escape for a brief amount of time, watch them as they separated, and then capture one in order to lure the other. They had a common rendezvous point, Yokohama, but it seemed that the enemy had figured it out more quickly than they had expected. Chizuru had been going through Tokyo when she had been captured, and Mana... she had met a strange young man in Yokohama. As she thought of her first meeting with Kenji, another smile lit up Mana's face.

"Mana-ne!" Chizuru's voice broke through her thoughts. "Come _on_! We need a bath!"

"Coming, Chizuru-ne," she murmured, following close behind. Kenji escorted the two to their room, then proceeded to his own and discarded his clothes with utter distaste. It was only when he was among ordinary people that he realized his horrible hygienic conditions. The young man bit back a growl when he pulled his gi off, scanning it in the dim light of his room; he could hardly tell it was green anymore. After changing into a cleaner pair of clothes, he made his way to the closet on one side of his small room. There were no futons in it - he had pulled that out earlier, and it remained folded in the corner - but he found what he was looking for. The young Himura sighed as he pulled out the wash bucket.

_'How could Father like this kind of thing?'_ he thought as he scrubbed his clothes against the board. For all he knew, he was getting rid of more color than dirt. Clasping a hand to his forehead, the young man groaned, pulling the gi from the tub. It looked... relatively clean. _'Whatever,' _he thought, abandoning his usually hygienic behavior in favor of not doing the laundry. His hakama was washed in very much the same manner.

_'Now to wash myself,' _he thought, staring down disdainfully at one arm. Even in the darkness, he could pick out the spots where the dirt had stained his skin. He scratched his arm absently, biting back a growl; it was only after he finished his trek down the mountain that his condition became known. All the dirt irritated his skin.

"Where are the men's baths?" he asked when walking up to the secretary. He could only hope that every boarder wasn't forced to have a small bathing pot brought to them. He suddenly found himself missing the bath-house back at home. Granted, his mother had a thing for letting Ayame and Suzume in while he was in the bath once too often, but still...

"The end of that hall," the secretary drawled, pointing a finger in the direction Kenji needed to go. The young Himura turned and briskly stepped in the general direction, failing to bow; for such people that worked for this organization, he would show no respect.

_'How much respect do you plan on showing yourself?' _his mind taunted him, but he shut the thoughts off. The last thing he wanted was another wave of guilt.

xXx

"This feels great," Chizuru murmured, scrubbing her arm with a free hand. Mana nodded in approval. The Yun-ya was home to a few outdoor baths, and Chizuru, having not been in the mood to pull out the large pot generally used for scrubbing oneself clean, insisted on indulging herself. Mana couldn't agree with this decision more.

"Let's see your ankle, Chizuru-ne," Mana said coaxingly, and addressed sister reluctantly rose her leg from the water. The second sister looked it from head to toe; it was dark and bruised, but it was quite obviously better than it had been earlier. She rubbed it gently with the cloth, murmuring, "You're lucky this isn't a bad sprain."

"I'll say," Chizuru agreed, dipping her head. Once her leg was released, she sighed, enveloping the bottom half of her face in the steamy water. Bubbles erupted from her mouth as if she were talking, but she never rose her head to make her words known. Both sisters had long since scrubbed off the dirt; they were merely relaxing now.

"Chizuru-ne," Mana murmured suddenly, her blue-grey eyes serious, "what are we going to do now?" The question that had been waiting on the tips of both tongues hung over the two silently. For a moment, it seemed that the first sister would not answer, but when she did, her voice was hard with determination.

"We'll stay in Kyoto until Kenji finishes his training with Hiko-san," she said. "Then we'll..." She trailed off, her eyes flicking to and fro as she mentally went over the possibilities. Mana, realizing what the silence meant, looked down to her pale skin sadly.

"Kenji has a family," Chizuru murmured. "If we leave Japan... We can't afford to ask him to come with us. It'd be selfish, and besides," her brow creased and her eyes closed as she took on an indifferent attitude, "we don't need him."

"Kenji-san has been so kind, though," Mana began, and before Chizuru was allowed to interject, she stiffened. Mana's eyes widened as she watched her sister slowly turn her head to one side, her eyes turning into slits as she attempted to make out something invisible. Mana stared in the direction Chizuru was working to unnoticably look to, and her eyes widened as she caught site of a dark figure retreating behind one of the decorative boulders. Embarrassment was cast aside as the first Raikoji sister tied the towel around herself and jumped forward, one hand outstretched.

"Stay back, Mana-ne!" she snapped just as Mana was about to follow. Chizuru dashed behind the boulder to where the hidden figure apparently waited; sounds of a scuffle followed this action, followed by a pained cry from both Chizuru and an unknown voice. A loud splash was heard as the rasher of the sisters yanked the man out from behind the boulder roughly, exposing him to their site. It was at the last second that the shadowed figure lashed out a hand, grabbing Chizuru's hair; the girl gave a pained shriek but bit her lip to stifle it as she fell forward with him. Mana watched with wide eyes as her sister scrabbled with the man, hurling angered punches at him. These were returned with furious backhanded slaps, none of which seeming to faze Chizuru. The first Raikoji finally gained the upper hand as an arm shot out to meet her face once again; she anticipated the move and leaned quickly to the side as the arm shot by, inches away from her face. She enveloped the hand in an icy grip, her other hand automatically going to the man's throat. Chizuru's eyes narrowed dangerously, and as she spoke, her voice hardened angrily.

"Who are you working for?!" she demanded harshly, releasing his throat just enough to allow the man to speak. "Well? Talk!" The man said nothing; he spat in her face. When she shook him angrily, neglecting to wipe away the spit for fear of losing her grip, he hacked and struggled uselessly. "I told you to _talk_!"

"Go to hell, bitch," the man snapped, to which Chizuru lifted his head and slammed it none too gently against the rocks. The man gave a pained gasp as she lifted it until it was mere inches away from her own face. Her blue eyes flashed dangerously.

"You didn't answer my question!" she snapped. Her grip on the man's throat tightened, forcing a gasp from him. "Who are you working for?"

"I thought that would be obvious enough," he replied coldly. Then, despite his obvious lack of air, he managed a laugh. "Akiro says hi." Chizuru's eyes widened greatly, but before she was able to properly react, the man's knee shot up and hit her in the stomach; she bit back a cry of pain, her hand losing its grip on his throat. The man shot up, immediately backhanding the injured girl. Chizuru fell back into the water; the knot holding her towel up fell loose, to which the man's eyes widened greedily. Mana, realizing the danger, ran forward. The man's eyes flicked upwards as he caught site of the second girl running towards him, one hand outstretched. Seizing the opportunity, he lifted Chizuru by the hair. The Raikoji gave a pitiful moan, her eyes narrowing even as they closed.

"Back off, girl," he snapped, to which Mana immediately stiffened. One hand went to his waist, from which he pulled out a concealed dagger. He held it to Chizuru's throat whilst his other hand remained, burning her scalp. "Move, and I'll kill her."

"Y-you... you can't," Mana croaked. "She's too valuable to your cause--"

"That is for Akiro to decide," the man said coldly, pressing the knife harder to Chizuru's throat. A thin line of blood was painted across the dagger's edge. "And my orders from him were to kill the whore. Of course," he leaned his piggish face forward, burying his nose into Chizuru's shoulder and inhaling, "he didn't say anything about what I did _beforehand_..." As he spoke, his hand briefly released her scalp; Chizuru staggered, but the knife was waiting for her to take any escape chance. She remained where she stood, stiff and biting back tears as the man's free hand roamed across her shoulder and down to her hip. He leaned against her all-too-suggestively, and as tears slid down Chizuru's cheek, Mana jumped forward. The knife, having drifted just slightly away from Chizuru's neck while the man allowed pleasures to overcome his sense of duty, was forgotten as a new voice cried out Chizuru's name.

Mana stopped in her charge, staring in the direction of the voice. Kenji stood off to the side, a towel (thankfully) wrapped around his waist. The sakabatou, it seemed, never left his sight; it was clenched in his fist, which was rapidly turning white. The young man's blue eyes were wide, but upon taking in the scene, they narrowed dangerously. Kenji's mouth was set in a straight line as his free hand went to the sakabatou's hilt. The piggish man holding Chizuru only seemed vaguely aware of his presence; he turned, his eyes widening just slightly, then crinkling in a sneer.

"Something wrong, boy?" he sneered, the knife slowly pressing against Chizuru's skin. The girl bit back a whimper. It was barely audible, but Kenji heard it. His eyes flashed dangerously. "You want a turn? I'm a bit busy with this one... if you want, you can go to the other gi--" But he was cut off as Kenji, like lightning, jumped forward. The sword was immediately freed from its sheath and upon the unsuspecting man, the dull edge colliding with his skull. Chizuru could have sworn she heard something crack; if Kenji did, he showed no sign of easing up on the blows. The knife was suddenly released from her neck, trying pitifully to wave off the offending blade (with very little success). Chizuru ducked and ran to Mana, holding her injured neck.

Kenji had never been so angry. He had never enjoyed fighting someone so utterly _weak_. His mind and sword arm seemed to be completely separated; while he thought over and over how such a man would dare to hurt either Chizuru or Mana and while he mentally laughed at this wretched fool, he was mercilessly beating said man. Even as a dagger entered his vision, he felt no worry. His arm merely twisted away gracefully, only to return with pummeling blows. The knife was knocked away, its metal blade flashing into the distance.

Then it was suddenly over as an unidentified figure threw itself between him and the pig. Kenji's mind snapped back to reality as he halted his arm, the sword hovering mere inches away from Chizuru's determined face. Her arms were outstretched, her eyes were narrowed, and her mouth was drawn into a tight line. She had put her towel back on, but the fact that the cloth was soaked through made it worse, if anything. He glared at her, searching her eyes; it suddenly became painfully aware that reflected in her eyes were his amber ones. A growl threatened to crawl from his throat, but he bit down on his tongue, settling for words.

"Move," he hissed. His voice had dropped an octive or two, it seemed. Chizuru shook her head stubbornly, tight-lipped. He attempted to push her aside, choosing wisely to ignore her lack of dress, but she remained where she stood.

"Stop it, Kenji," she said calmly. Kenji's eyes widened as he interpreted her means of protecting the scum. How could she forgive the pig? Weren't the red marks on her cheeks given to her by him? Hadn't he _shamed_ her? As he thought of the crimes he had committed (especially the latter of the two), his clenched hand shook dangerously. Chizuru took notice of this, but she did nothing. She merely remained where she stood.

"You're defending him," he growled.

"I thought you gathered that," she returned coolly. "Kenji, I don't want you killing anybody."

"I wouldn't have killed him," he half-snapped. Was it the truth? He didn't know. Chizuru seemed to, and he would have loved to argue against it. But the possibility of it being the truth was too great. The girl merely snorted, turning and, with difficulty, hauling the piggish man to his feet. She left him on the side, far from water and the possibility that he would roll into it in his unconsciousness. Then she looked in Mana's direction; the second sister managed a weak smile and retreated to the safety of the rooms they owned. It was then that Chizuru turned to Kenji, her deep blue eyes returning to search his.

"That man was sent by Akiro," she said stiffly, to which Kenji quirked an eyebrow in confusion. Inhaling sharply, she attempted to regain her control. "Akiro... is the boss's brother, I've heard. The boss of the people we're running _away _from. I think it's a family grudge or something, but I... that's not the point," she stammered. "He doesn't want us around."

"How do you know him?" Kenji chanced. Chizuru averted her eyes to the ground in shame, but she continued.

"Our father sided with Akiro in hopes of gaining some protection, but he was assassinated," she explained. "Akiro tried to keep us from the enemy's knowledge, but it didn't work."

"Did you prefer being with Akiro?" Kenji asked, suddenly curious. "If you did, you could go back to him and--"

"Kenji, didn't you _see _the thug he hired? To _kill _me?" she demanded, gesturing to the unconscious man. "No, Akiro doesn't want me. Well, he wants me dead, but that's another story..."

"Why just you? Why not Mana-san?"

"We carry different information," she said. "But when you combine what we know, it's very... very useful. Without the other half, the information wouldn't amount to much."

"And what information is that?" Kenji dared to ask. He had missed the answer last time; he would not repeat that mistake. Chizuru would not change the subject. Her eyes widened as she realized that she had once again been caught in her own words and she bit her lip, her eyes darting to and fro nervously.

"I-I... I'd rather not talk about it," she murmured, turning in an attempt to escape to her room. Kenji, anticipating such a plan, lunged out and grabbed her wrist. She turned back to him with eyes that pleaded to be released, to allow her to keep the information to herself, but there was also the usual anger and determination he knew. She jerked her arm towards her, as if gauging how difficult he was willing to be, and sighed. "Kenji, please. Just let me go."

"You owe me," he replied. "I'm the reason you haven't been caught yet."

_'Liar!'_

"You're the reason I was caught in the first place," she reminded him coldly, and for a moment, he wondered if she somehow knew about his betrayal. But then he remembered when they had first met in the forest - how he had so easily abandoned her when she had needed his help the most - and he exhaled slowly, so as not to alert her of his worries.

"I didn't know you at all--"

"And you still don't," she snapped, pulling on her arm once again, only to find that it was still securely in his grip. "As long as you hide something from me, I will hide things from you. And we both have many things to hide, so," she fixed him with a cold expression, "we will never know each other completely."

"That's a stupid sense of logic," Kenji retorted. "Everyone is hiding something."

"But some things are more important than others," she replied. "Could you accept me if you knew the half of what I've done?" She laughed bitterly. "I doubt it."

"What could be worse than what I've already heard?" he demanded harshly. He knew it sounded cruel, but it was really the only thing he could think to say. "You've been abused mentally, physically..." One hand clenched into a fist as he continued, "Pigs like that man have done horrible things to you."

"And you suddenly care because...?" she asked dryly. When he didn't answer, she laughed once again, bitterly. "You don't. And you never will."

"That's your problem," he snapped. "You don't trust anyone."

"And it's spared me a good deal of grief," she hissed, attempting to pry his hand from her arm. She was having very little luck. "Trusting people just to have them _stab you in the back_... It's happened before, and it will happen agai--"

She was cut off as he closed the arm's distance between the, his grip remaining firm yet becoming featherlike, using his free hand to caress the slowly bruising part of her face. She immediately shied away, looking both embarrassed and angry, but Kenji moved his hand from her arm up to her shoulder, stilling her. The young Himura was checking her bruises more than he was touching her face, and she soon forced herself to believe it. She bit down on the inside of her cheek in order to forestall any surprised noises, but soon found herself growing calm as he ran his hand gently over her injuries. He then glanced quickly down to her hip, prodding it; the young Raikoji bit back all instincts that screamed for her to smack him. He was checking for bruises. When he was done with his examination, he looked to her eyes seriously, searching for an answer he could not find.

"I wish you could trust _me_," he finally murmured, releasing her arm. He was allowing her to go, but she stood there, still. It was as if she could not believe that she had gotten off so easily. When he waited for a minute and she did not leave, he turned to the water sitting down and allowing his dirty feet to rest in the water. "They didn't tell me it was a mixed bath..." he grumbled, very obviously disgusted. "They expect everybody here to be looking for a good ti--"

But it was he that was cut off as Chizuru, very tentatively from behind, wrapped her arms around his neck and embraced him. He stopped, partially stunned; as soon as she realized what she had done, she pulled away frantically, an angry mask hiding her embarrassment. Kenji, too, was terribly embarrassed; partially because of the fact that her (very poorly clad) frame had been pressed against him for a brief moment and partially because of the implied meaning behind these actions.

"I... I..." she trailed off, swearing under her breath. "If it's any consolation... I trust you more than I do other people." Then she stood and, stiffly, walked back to her room. Kenji watched, wide-eyed, until the door closed behind her. The only thing remotely human he could think was, _'Uh...'_

Kenji deliberately chose not to think about their current encounter; instead, he focused on finishing his bath. After an hour or two of serious scrubbing and merely relaxing he heard the shoji door sliding open and clicking to a stop when it hit the wooden frame; fervently hoping that the intruder was no female, he looked in the direction from which the noise came and stopped. His eyes widened as he recognized the intruder, accompanied by some unrecognizable faces.

_'Yousaku...'_

"Good evening, Himura-san," the light-haired boy said politely, smiling and taking a seat beside Kenji. Said boy recoiled, something akin to a growl waiting for rumble from his throat. Upon seeing his hostility, Yousaku frowned. "You're manners aren't terribly good. These are my superiors, Kagami-sama," he gestured towards the tallest of the three, a man with traditionally dark hair and narrowed eyes, "and this is Kohaku-sama." The second man, slightly shorter than Kagami but taller than Yousaku, inclined his head politely. The first thing Kenji found himself acknowledging in this man was that he was bald, but despite that, he seemed relatively young. The second thing he observed were the tattoos running up across the top of his head and down his back. He hardly seemed Japanese, for his features were much different than that of a traditional Japanese man; his eyes were large, his nose long and crooked at the end, and his lips were terribly thin.

"Nice to meet you," he said stiffly, unsure of how to behave around these men. If Yousaku referred to them as his superiors, they must have been a part of the organization... either that, or he was just being respectful.

"We've heard many things about you, Himura-san," Kagami said. "Yousaku has told us you have quite the ability with the sword." To this, Kenji said nothing; he merely averted his eyes to the ground. Kagami continued, ignoring his silence, "You are training with Seijuro Hiko, are you not?" A hesitant nod. "And Yousaku has informed you of you appointed training with him?" Another nod. "Good. We look forward to your improvement. You may prove to be a valuable asset, given you remain obedient."

"How long do you intend to have me work for you?" he interjected, finding himself more worried for Kohaku's answer than for Kagami's. "I don't plan on doing this forever."

"That will depend on the status of this organization once we have completed our prime goals," Kagami said, a cold edge to his voice. "If we manage to get that information from the Raikoji sisters, we will hold a great deal of influence."

"What kind of information is that?" Kenji questioned. The question he had been pestering Chizuru with seemed to lay constantly in wait, eager to press somebody for the answer. Much to his chagrin, however, Kagami shook his head.

"Classified," he said. Kenji bit back a growl. Just as he was about to press the men for more information, he remembered the stakes holding his obedience down: his family.

"Why did you have to involve my family?" he hissed, glancing over to Yousaku. The boy merely smiled in return, but once again, it was Kagami who answered.

"You shouldn't have joined if you had people who mattered to you," he said coolly. Kenji, finding this man more irritating with every word he spoke, chose to ignore him. He turned to Yousaku, and mostly, Kohaku.

"You joined us of your own free will," Kohaku said in a calm, collected voice. "If you continue to do so without faltering, your family will be fine." To this, Kenji's eyes narrowed angrily. His own family was being used against him; he hated the sense of helplessness that accompanied this horrid fact. As if sensing his discomfort, Kohaku continued, "We wouldn't dream of hurting them without good reason."

"How many people work in this organization?" Kenji demanded, both curious and mentally calculating how the defense at the Aoi-ya would hold, depending on their attacker's strength. "And how strong are they?"

"We have many kinds of employees," Kagami jumped in, only too eager to answer. "Many are unaware of working for us at all, but some," a disgusted note entered his voice, "like Ikiro-san, know. We have the people who work for us transporting our goods. Then there are those who supply us with information, such as the Raikoji girls." Upon hearing the slight intake of breath Kenji made, Kohaku, who had been listening passively, rose an eyebrow. Kenji immediately fought to gather his control as Kagami continued, "Above that rank are men who worked in the Meiji restoration. Most of them are very skilled with a katana. Above them are men like me and," he nodded towards Yousaku, "the boy. And above us is Kohaku-sama." He inclined his head respectively, to which the bald man nodded in return. Kenji suddenly felt sickened by himself for having withstood this kind of company; he stood, wrapping his towel around his waist.

"I'll be going," he said stiffly. All three men nodded and murmured various replies, the most noticeable of them being Yousaku's cheerful goodbye. The young Himura had just reached the door when he heard an all-too-familiar groan; whirling around in the direction of the unconscious man, he watched with wide eyes as Yousaku perked to attention. The light-haired boy wrapped his own towel around his waist and stood, nearing the slowly waking man.

"Himura-san," he said curiously, "who is this? A friend of yours?"

Kenji could not bite back the, "Hardly," for it was too true. He could not shake the feeling of Kohaku's eyes burning across his back, and, if only to rid himself of the feeling, he continued, "A man called Akiro-san sent him to kill Chizuru." He forgot to leave off the honorific - it seemed all right, for nobody acknowledged it - but he could not hold back the growl in his voice.

"...Ah," Kohaku murmured. "You may go now, Himura-san." And Kenji found himself obeying, sliding the door shut. He did not bother to look back; he knew that the poor fool that had dared to hurt Chizuru would die, but it would not be by his hand. As he walked down the hall towards his less-than-average room, he felt a smirk tugging on the edges of his mouth.

_'Chizuru would be sickened by me,' _he thought, and the smile faltered a bit, but did not vanish. How could she not see that her aggressor _deserved _death? Whether she saw or not did not matter, for said man was either dead or would die. An almost sadistic sneer curled up from the smirk, and as Chizuru's narrowed blue eyes burned themselves into his mind, he banished any cruel happiness. Rather, he was stunned and disturbed.

What _would _the sisters think? Chizuru?

_"Kenji, I don't want you killing anybody."_

_"I wouldn't have killed him."_

He had doubted his words earlier, and he now knew that his words had been completely false. Chizuru, as she usually was, had been truthful when stating her wishes for him. And he, in return, had merely handed her attacker over to people who would surely kill him. If she was not sickened with him, it did not matter; he was disgusted with himself. He had built a shaky friendship with the Raikoji sisters, and what had he done to honor that friendship?_ 'Nothing that would make them happy,' _he thought bitterly.

He was sickened with himself for so many reasons. The first that came to mind was that he was demanding answers from the people in which he kept his own secrets, secrets that were possibly worse than their own. He was betraying both Chizuru and Mana, even as he struggled to become friends with them. He had _enjoyed _harshly defeating someone who was obviously weaker than him.

He had allowed that man to be _killed_...

The gravity of the situation struck Kenji over and over, failing to ebb in the slightest, but he was not entirely shocked. When he did not think of Chizuru's reaction, he did not regret his actions. He did not _care _if that man died.

That was what sickened him the most.

_to be continued..._

_A/N: _

_Karoshi - the Japanese term for dying from overwork._

_Tempura - deep fried, batter-dipped vegetables and sea-food._

_Nikujaga - meat and potato dish._

_Blame all that pointless fluff on listening to Hoobastank's The Reason too much. Sorry if you don't like a bit of fluff now and then, I'm trying to make this a decent fanfiction. But there won't be any lemon-ish stuff... I'm WAY too shy. I blush when I write kisses. x3 Gad, sorry for the total lack of action in ANY of these chapters, tho'. If you've read all of this so far and you're awake, then I commend you for your patience. Oo; _

_I'm sorry to those who dislike Kenji's crappy behavior, but I'm trying to work on a character that can slowly learn to improve himself. But still, it's funny... Kenshin and Kaoru are both pretty good people, and they had a little jerk like him. xD It's not all my fault, tho'. Watsuki-sensei told us in his thoughts about Kenji that he would be arrogant and cynical, no? _

_Jokes aside, I am really very sorry if you think I'm not working hard enough on this, but... I do try. In order to keep this fanfiction alive in my head and on the screen, I need to do a lot of fast brainstorming; I can't think it over for a long time, or I'll lose the ambition to write altogether. I'm trying to keep you entertained, too, but please don't think I'm not working on it at all. I am, and I know I'm making a lot of mistakes along the way, but I'm trying to advance whatever writing skills I have while I make this fanfiction. _

_By the way, do you think I should bump it up to Mature? Like I said, I don't plan on writing anything remotely lemon-ish, but there's still the violence and the sexual references... _

_See you next chapter! _


	11. Veracity and Fabrication

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin.**

_"Chizuru-chan," a gentle, lilting voice beckoned, accompanied by reaching hands, "come here." Chizuru bobbed her head and dashed forward, finding comfort in the arms of her mother. Her tiny, pudgy hands gripped the fabric of the older woman's kimono as she breathed in her mother's ever-familiar scent, sighing contentedly. Said woman rubbed one hand across her back while her other hand brushed its fingers through Chizuru's hair. The child found herself wondering why such peaceful events as these were so hard to come across - ever since their father had started coming in late, their mother had stopped paying attention to them - but her worries were banished as the ever-comforting murmurs reached her ears, soothing her worries._

_Then she was gone, replaced by nothingness; Chizuru felt her throat tighten painfully as she saw a knife on the ground before her, blood staining the blade and the ground before it, a crimson trail into the darkness. Her blue eyes widened as she opened her suddenly sticky fists, observing the gore that lay in her palms. Sucking a breath in as she attempted to calm herself, she looked about frantically. She could find no certain leads, and, confused and scared, she followed the path before her. For how long she ran, she could not tell; it could have been a moment or an eternity, but she did not know. All she did know was the sticky feeling of blood beneath her feet. Was it still blood? Chizuru didn't dare look._

_She was suddenly standing in front of a huddled figure. As she watched the pathetic thing tremble in front of her, she felt her hand close around the hilt of the knife she had seen earlier. Her stomach lurched painfully as she was hit by the words commanding her to put this creature out of its misery, to destroy it and become stronger. _

_"The strong live and the weak die," it snarled, and Chizuru vaguely thought of Makoto Shishio. Hadn't that been his favorite line? As she felt another lurch that often came with remembering such assassins, she banished the man from her mind; rather, her hand rose above her head, the dagger pointing down to the unsuspecting figure. She was only vaguely aware of what she was doing. As she drove the blade down, the human looked up... and Chizuru saw her own eyes reflected in those of her sister. She instantly stopped, stumbling back; the blade fell from her hand to the ground, making no sound as it hit the ground beneath her. _

_"Mana-ne," she croaked. Her voice sounded terribly scared, but she could do nothing to alter it. "You..." But as she struggled to find the words, Mana's eyes narrowed accusingly; she brought her hands forward, cradling a ribbon delicately. But while her actions were graceful and precise, her glare was wrathful. Upon recognizing the ribbon as one her mother had worn many a time, Chizuru's eyes widened. _

_"Mommy..." Mana murmured, averting her eyes for a moment to look tenderly upon the thin cloth. "Isn't she horrible, Mommy?" Chizuru was about to question this cryptic words, but her sister continued, "I miss you so much... she thinks I'm stupid, but I'm completely aware of what she did..." The glare returned as she met said sister's blue eyes. "I hate her so much, Mommy..."_

_"Mana-ne," Chizuru began shakily, eyes failing to narrow in the least. She attempted to reach out to her sister, to question her, but her arm bore the weight of lead. Something lit up beneath Mana's frame; Chizuru's eyes widened as she realized that it, too, was blood. But it was not Mana's. The young woman stood, the ribbon held tenderly in her hands, and the pool beneath her rippled. Chizuru saw in the dark liquid her own face, wide-eyes, skin paled, her shaky hands clenched. The blade of the knife gleamed almost accusingly. She felt guilt knotting in her belly, causing her heart to pound forcefully. She hated it, and upon taking in another second of her sister's glare, she turned and ran. The pitiful murmurs Mana offered to her "mother" followed. _

_Another path lit up ahead of her mysteriously (but then again, that was the nature of nightmares) and Chizuru ran forward, her fingers failing to release the dagger; her mind was pulled from the weapon altogether as she caught site of an all-too-familiar figure standing in the light. Her eyes widened as she took in his emerald-like eyes, his blond hair that was already illuminated by the brightness above him, the familiar sneer; she turned back in the direction she had come from, willing to risk her sister's accusations instead of meeting Yousaku, but a stinging pain jolted through her ankles and she fell to the ground. She already knew the method that had been used to pin her down. She turned and narrowed her eyes at the boy, glaring with all her might. She received a silent sneer for her efforts. _

_A light opened in her peripheral vision, and Chizuru glanced to the side; her mouth opened in a silent scream as she beheld Kohaku, grinning menacingly. Although he made no movement, she still trembled with terror - it was a fear that she had strived to hide, but in the world of dreams her emotions were easily read - and his mouth opened and formed words she already knew. She had seen him command Yousaku to do this so many times, but she had never been on the receiving end of them. _

_"Kill her."_

_Chizuru didn't need to hear anymore, so in an attempt to lessen her terror, she slammed her hands over her ears, curling into a fetal position that was very much like the one Mana had been performing earlier. The nightmare was nowhere near merciful; a voice rang through the darkness clearly... but it was not Yousaku's. _

_"I'm sorry," his familiar voice murmured, and for a moment, it sounded truly regretful. Chizuru's eyes snapped open and she looked up to see Kenji, holding the sakabatou above his head; the blunt edge he had shown her earlier was flipped so that the sharp side faced her menacingly. When he continued to speak, his voice was hard, bereft of the sorrow he had expressed earlier. "But it's an order."_

_"I... I..." she stammered weakly, feeling sickening fear overcome her as she attempted to persuade him into a halt. Tears slid down her cheeks as the blade came down._

Kenji's eyes snapped open as a scream echoed through the night air. He jumped to his feet, ignoring the immediate assault of low blood pressure he had inherited from his mother, and snatched up the sakabatou. A civilian? But as he ran down the hall, listening to the high-pitched wail increase in volume, his mind snapped to attention._ 'Chizuru!'_

Kenji ignored any manners that ordered him to formally announce himself as he entered the suite; he slammed the shoji door closed behind him in a desperate attempt to ward off the confused customers. He could already hear choruses of , "What the hell?" and "What's going on?" The young Himura's eyes widened as he ran into the sisters' room to find Mana desperately cradling a shrieking Chizuru. The former of the two looked over to see Kenji; her eyes were dark for a moment, threatening to snarl at a stranger, and for a moment she looked nothing like the shy young lady he had run into at the market. But upon identifying him as a friend, her gaze went from angered to worried, and she looked back to Chizuru. She murmured comforting things, to which a slowly calming sister struggled pitifully with her words. Kenji could not identify her garbled sobs from her actual voice. Feeling a bit of worry knotting in his gut, he leaned down so that he was at eye-level with the two sisters, and he reached out at hand.

Upon sensing the contact of a foreign object touching her head and gently, yet stiffly, running fingers through her hair, Chizuru's eyes snapped open. As Kenji's vaguely worried features registered in her mind, she let out a half-shriek and attempted to pull herself away from Mana's grip. It took all of said Raikoji's strength to keep her from escaping. Kenji's hand abandoned the area around her face in favor of her wrist, clamping down on it firmly. Another shriek echoed from her mouth, but in an attempt to muffle her own cries, she clamped her free hand over her mouth. A half of her consciousness was still trapped in the nightmare, bleeding and writing in agony from the blow that should have killed her upon contact. The other half was trying fruitlessly to silence her fears, to tell her that it was all false and gone. But the former of the two was undoubtedly winning.

"She's scared of you, Kenji-san," Mana said, her voice maintaining the comforting murmur she had adapted. Chizuru shuddered as she thought of the polar opposite of her, the young woman that had been claiming to be a ribbon's daughter. Kenji began to protest, but Mana stared at him with such seriousness that he stopped. "Chizuru-ne... she's not quite stable now..."

"Shut up!" Chizuru snapped, tearing herself away from her sister uncharacteristically. "Shut up! I'm... I'm _not_..." But before she was allowed to continue, her voice froze in her throat; she reached a hesitant hand up to her face and touched the skin, blinking in surprise when she saw tears running down her fingers. Her surprise melted into misery as she stared at both Kenji and Mana, looking, if anything, terribly offended. Her eyes filled with tears, and before she could stop herself, she was kneeling on the floor, crying pitifully. Both Mana and Kenji reached out hands to comfort her with, hands she smacked away furiously. "I'm _not _unstable, dammit! I get so _sick _of hearing it! Just because..." she paused in an attempt to hold off a sob, an attempt that failed, "...because he's messed up my mind... _damn!_" She slammed the floor with a fist, and before Kenji could speak, she warned him away with a glare. Whatever trust she had promised him earlier was gone.

"Get out."

Kenji was taken back. "What?"

"Get out, I said!" she snapped. "I'm fine! Go to sleep already!" But as the young Himura continued to stare at her, she realized that her message wasn't quite getting through. She was about to hit him - with what, she didn't really care - but before she could, Mana, wisely interpreting her thoughts, stood abruptly.

"I'll make sure he's out, Chizuru-ne," she murmured. Hurt tinged her voice, but nobody felt inclined to acknowledge it. Before Kenji was allowed to protest, Mana had the sleeve of his sleeping yukata in her hand and was leading him from the still-shaking form of Chizuru. Kenji tried to meet her gaze, to accuse her without words, but she averted her eyes to the scenery outside the window. He wanted so badly to interrogate her.

Kenji had expected to be politely shown out, but when Mana silently pulled a spare futon from the cupboard and unfolded it, he gaped at her. The only look he got in return was that of innocent confusion, followed by the words, "Please stay. If she has any more nightmares, you may be able to help..."

Kenji wasn't sure if that was a satisfactory answer, but he forced himself to be satisfied. Any onlookers who had noticed that the slight-framed boy had failed to leave the room (a room belonging to girls alone) would think that something indecent was going on. But the possibility of Chizuru waking up from another nightmare overrode those worries, and he set the sakabatou down next to him, sliding into the futon awkwardly. Mana had left earlier, leaving him with the decision of whether to sleep while sitting or in the futon. He couldn't refuse their hospitality.

The young Himura slept lightly, and his dreams, unlike those of a certain young woman he was currently grudgingly worrying over, were empty of fear.

xXx

"So pretty," Ai murmured as she stared into the dark sky, which, from time to time, was being illuminated with different fireworks. Shinya, her unusually silent companion, nodded stiffly. The young Himura blinked dolefully at her friend, attempting to draw out his crisis through his face. It didn't work; as soon as he saw her staring, he stiffened and looked away, refusing to meet her eye. Despite her confusion, Ai allowed herself a small smile. He looked every inch his father, and yet his social abilities came from his mother. "Don't you think so, Shinya-kun?"

"I... yeah," he mumbled off-handedly. Ever since he had seen her in the formal wear, accompanied by a bit of makeup Kaoru had administered, he had been struck nearly dumb. She looked like a doll of the finest porcelain. But she was nowhere near as dead as such a thing; her violet eyes, eyes she had inherited from her father, shown brilliantly as she watched the fireworks.

He was about to do something - anything, for he was desperate to make amends for having insulted her brother, despite how much he hated him - and as he very slowly inched closer to her, the long, baggy sleeve of his gi swung with an unexpected weight. The young Myogin stared down at it in confusion, and then, slowly, he reached into the pocket under the arm and pulled the ribbon he had bought out. Shinya's eyes widened. _'Thank you, Shinomori-san.'_ Only Misao, who had dressed the reluctant boy, would have noticed such a detail and anticipated its meaning. He moved closer still - it was a terribly easy thing to do, for the crowd was so closely-packed already - and nudged her shoulder just enough to get her attention. Ai looked at him with confused eyes, but before she could question him, he held the ribbon in front of her. Her eyes widened as she took in the fine, aqua-blue embroidery, the shine of the beads attached to the end, and the fact that it was Shinya who was giving it to her. The boy waited in anticipation, saying nothing, daring to go no further than hold the object between them.

But it was Ai's smile - the smile he had adored for what seemed like so long - and the silent acceptance of the ribbon that soothed his worries. She gently tugged the suddenly boring, black ribbon from her hair and replaced it with the light-blue one, her hands marveling at the texture just as her eyes did at the sight of it. The first ribbon was tucked away in her own sleeve, only to reappear after the festivities.

"Thank you, Shinya," she said, her voice quavering just slightly as she left his name bare of honorifics. "It's beautiful."

He did not know what to say. Sparing himself the agony of fumbling with his words, he looked up to the fireworks; although the brightly-colored explosions were currently the only things he could see, his thoughts were of her smile, and how gratefully she had looked upon the ribbon. How she had looked upon his gift to her.

"I... yeah."

xXx

In the past, waking up to find a man in the same room as she had been in would mean that Chizuru had been dragged against her will into that room. And whatever had happened afterwards, she had fought against with all her might. But as she wearily dragged herself from the futon she vaguely remembered forcing herself back into after the nightmare and stumbled into the suite, her eyes widened.

_'Floor. Futon. Guy in futon,' _her brain managed, but the rest was a jumble of incoherent thoughts. Before she could piece together the fact that the man was a relatively harmless Kenji, instinct took over; she reached for the next sturdy object, which happened to be a broom resting in the corner, and brought it down threateningly.

The outcome of attacking any man in her room was always different; if her victim had been a spineless lowlife who had taken her into his room for kicks, he had barely escaped the room without broken bones. If it had been one of the larger, more capable men... well, it took a bit more effort, but she could easily remember having chased such a type from her territory. It was not those men who scared her. Rather, it was Kohaku and Yousaku - the former had a greater effect on her than the latter, but she feared both - that scared her. She couldn't stand being under their shadows, she couldn't stand how they were so easily superior to her... but the thing she hated most was how they had so easily found ways to use them despite the fact that they had failed to give away any information of merit.

Chizuru was snapped back to the real world as the broom was stopped in mid-swing, Kenji's hand having quickly materialized between said weapon and his head. The look he gave Chizuru was one of pure irritation, but not quite anger. He was probably too confused about last night to be angry. _'Last night...' _she blushed slightly as she remembered hugging him, and she averted her eyes to the ground. Kenji quirked an eyebrow quizzically.

"What hospitality," he muttered irritably, pulling away the broom quickly. Chizuru was too occupied with her own thoughts to prevent the cleaning-object-turned-weapon from abandoning her grasp. Instead, she sucked her breath in sharply and glared at him. It was all she could think to do, and, having expected such a response, Kenji merely snorted. "I hope you don't try that again. I'm a pretty light sleeper."

"About last night," Chizuru began quickly. She didn't want to waste time beating around the bush. It would only make it all the more uncomfortable. "I'm sorry if I reacted... violently... I'm just..." She trailed off, unsure of what to say. Most of last night had evaded her, but she could remember shrieking at both Kenji and Mana to get off her back. Or something like that.

"If you're about to say something about being unstable, don't," Kenji half-snapped, standing from the futon and folding it up neatly. "Because you aren't."

"I... what..." she began pitifully. When had he gotten that idea...? And more importantly, was it true? She hated to think of the possibilities, but if she couldn't remember the details of the night before, it would give people another reason to say she was...

"You told me that last night," Kenji said simply, ignoring her confused features.

"I said I was sorry," she spat, irritated with his cold demeanor. She couldn't stand it when he acted like this; like he was some sort of demigod. _'Which is why I don't like him much at all,' _she thought grudgingly. In an attempt to voice her thoughts without sounding too cruel, she muttered, "If you would stop acting like that, I wouldn't need to be snappy..."

"Act like what?" he asked almost dangerously. Chizuru stared at him for a moment, gauging him. What was he...? Was it anger? Irritation? Or was he just toying with her? She fervently hoped it was not the last of the three. She couldn't stand the thought. But the almost predatory look on his face, the narrowing of his eyes and the slight draw of his lips against his teeth, threatened to confirm these suspicions. Something flashed across his eyes... amber? She instantly intensified her glare. What his motives were, she couldn't be sure, but she didn't want to be a part of something she wasn't aware of.

But as soon as their silent battle had begun, it stopped; Kenji looked away, slightly surprised with himself. Something had, undoubtedly, been clawing at the surface of his mind for a moment, screaming to get through. It didn't like the idea of anyone challenging it, challenging _Kenji_... but when Chizuru did so, a newfound amusement replaced the irritation. It was an emotion that practically begged to be egged on, to be challenged further. The rational side of Kenji, the side that had been unquestioningly dominant for all his life, was disturbed by its sneer. It looked at Chizuru as someone to be controlled... something that would break her, for she thrived on the ability to rebel in any possible way.

"Like... like you don't care," she half-snapped, although the other half of her voice was a mixture of emotions. Kenji ignored it, although his rational half was more than willing to explore it.

"Why should I when you don't?" he drawled, to which Chizuru's eyes widened just slightly, only to return to their narrowed slits.

"I..." she began indignantly as she searched her mind for anything that had happened earlier to support her. Things were still difficult to piece together... had Mana given her medicine in an attempt to calm her? She must have; Chizuru's head was slightly fogged, her memories refusing to cooperate. But there was no sign of pain. She stumbled along, "I never said..."

"...Oh, I remember _now_," Kenji continued, his voice failing to drop its drawl. His hand went to her wrist, and, ignoring her protests, he studied it as he continued almost dully. "You were quite _friendly _last night, actually. 'I trust you more than most people,' you told me." His eyes went from her pale wrist to her eyes, which were large and confused, even a little fearful. Disappointment flashed through his eyes, but it was gone as soon as it came. Instead of voicing anything that might trigger memories, he crushed her frame to his for a moment - the rational, suppressed Kenji would never do such a thing so quickly - and held the small of her back in one hand while his other kept a firm hold on her wrist. Chizuru was silent for a moment, temporarily frozen; when her mind finally registered what was happening, she fought against it, but her strength was meager in comparison to his. She mentally cursed women being naturally fat instead of muscular.

_"If it's any consolation... I trust you more than I do other people."_

Chizuru's eyes widened as the memories hit her, and she stopped her protest for a moment. Their positions had been completely reversed the night before... she knew she had been bold, overly so to the point of suggestion, and she hadn't liked that thought. The last thing she wanted was to actually care for another man - due to circumstances she didn't want to linger on, she found it terribly difficult to trust them - but it seemed that the young man she had wanted to become friends with was holding her a little longer than reasonable. Chizuru mentally rolled her eyes; she was being a complete hypocrite. But... she didn't want Kenji to have a_ whore_ with him. Although it currently seemed that he had no qualms about touching her, she knew it would end. Such moments as these were ephermal.

"I want you to tell me about Akiro," he murmured, and she shuddered not so much at the request but at the fact that his mouth was much to close to her ear for a friendly hug. "And about your father. You've been avoiding the subject."

"No," she spat. It was all she could think to say, and, as she predicted, it was a pitiful attempt at throwing him off. Kenji allowed her no room to move, and even though she wasn't looking at his face, she could predict that his eyes had changed color again.

"You will," he replied calmly, commandingly. She hated it so much.

"Haven't I told you enough already?" she half-snapped, half-begged. "I don't want a pity-party."

"I'm not going to give you one," he sneered, and she shuddered again. He smiled against her neck, and something akin to a protest escaped her lips. He did not pull away. She was far too easy to question in such a position, and frankly, it didn't feel bad. "Tell me what your father told you," he clarified.

"Names."

"And?" That couldn't be it. She was trying to withhold something from him, and it wouldn't work.

"Names and... numbers." The words were spoken grudgingly, gritted through her teeth as she fought to choose what she wanted: to stay in the embrace and return it, or to follow her usual pattern of fighting against every movement he made.

"Whose names?"

"Kenji, please just let me g--"

"_Names, _Chizuru," he hissed, but instead of getting the desired freeze from her, he felt her increase her struggle. She pushed against him her free arm, biting her lip to forestall any words that might mislead her. She lost control when he grabbed her wrist again, as if intending to memorize the blue veins beneath her pale skin; she jerked away, meeting his eyes with a ferocity he had become accustomed to.

"You're just like your damned father," she spat, surprising him to the point of breaking his cool demeanor. When she had spoken about Kenshin before, it had always been in a joking manner. She had always been indifferent with the rurouni. "Screwing up peoples' lives and getting away with it! Get the _hell _away from me!" This time Kenji released her, although reluctantly. His eyes were wide. As Chizuru caught site of them, her rage only seemed to deepen. "Just like dad in other aspects, hmm?"

"How much do you know about my father?" Kenji demanded angrily, his hands going from his sides to her shoulders, where he held on none-too-gently. If it hurt Chizuru at all, she did not show it. The fact that she had known about the Hitokiri Battousai's strength with a sword was one thing - everybody knew about that - but knowing his golden eyes was another. _'Names and numbers...' _As the words went through his head, Kenji's eyes widened. It was just a guess - he really hadn't been expecting such a thing, but then again, he hadn't known what to expect - and he hoped it was wrong. "How much do you know about the _Hitokiri_?"

"Like I said," she retorted, her voice dripping acidly, "names and numbers."

"Names and _victims, _you mean," he replied, eyes widening as she did nothing to prove him wrong. In fact, she nodded, a slight sneer crossing her lips before vanishing, replaced by a slight shudder. Giving away such information was against the instinct that had been beaten into her. It was against her natural means of thinking.

"Every name," she murmured, "and every victim. Makoto Shishio would have used the names of his victims to terrorize the government, had your father not interfered. And because of Himura Kenshin, along with many other assassins working for Choshu, I have that information." She looked to the ground, her eyes shining bitterly. "Information that could tear apart this era of _peace._"

And before he could form words, before his mind could properly register what she had told him and the gravity of such information, she pulled away from him sharply and went back to her room, slamming the shoji door shut behind her. Confused murmurs from a newly-awakened Mana reached his ears, followed by dismissive answers from Chizuru, but nothing out of the ordinary.

The secret was out. Well, it was not quite as detailed as it should have been, but if that had been the case, they would have been standing in the entrance room for hours. But still, he now knew what the sisters were hiding, and why it was such a threat. Makoto Shishio... as Chizuru said, he would have used the names of his victims to threaten and tear apart the government.

_'No wonder they want that,' _he thought numbly. What would he do? Tell Yousaku? It seemed the most direct route to getting the information to the leader. Was that Kohaku? Kenji couldn't say he was sure. All the same, would they be satisfied with such information? More details would be needed. He would have to wait patiently, to slowly coax the names and victims out of her. It was a wonder how so many names were pounded into her mind. He had questioned his father on the assassinations, and all he had received in return was a long, sad look from his father. He could remember questioning Misao and then even Okina about it, but he had never really gotten anywhere. It was terribly unfair that a child was unable to know much about his father. The only thing he had been fathered by was a kind man, one against fighting, a loving father-figure... and yet, despite the fact that he had been lucky with this upbringing in comparison to the Raikoji sisters, he had wanted to know the assassin. He had wanted to see golden eyes looking upon him, praising him, acknowledging his skill. Instead, he had received violet. Violet, happy, sad... the emotion didn't matter. What mattered was that Kenshin had never taught him anything of value. He had never taught Hiten Mitsurugi.

Kenji put no thought into his actions; he just knew he needed to find a means of contacting Yousaku, and he needed to do it now. Before he was actually thinking about what he was doing, he was pulling on a gi and hakama, folding his futon and placing his sleeping yukata on top gingerly. If Chizuru did not want him spending another night, she would throw it out. A part of him was worried that he would have to run to her room to comfort her, but another part willed discomfort upon her. He loathed both the former and the latter. Being indifferent with her was the easiest thing, but now he either cared for her or hated her.

"I'm going out for lunch," he said, to which a still-miffed Chizuru nodded stiffly. "I'll be back in an hour or so."

"Would you like us to come along?" Mana asked obliviously, to which both Chizuru and Kenji shook their heads, the former doing so which much more ferocity than the latter.

"That's fine. You can stay and get your rest," and, before Mana could protest, he continued, "You should look after Chizuru. She didn't get much sleep." This earned him an irritated snort from said sister, but nothing more. Kenji could not suppress a sneer as he walked out, closing the door behind him.

He had reached the receptionist's desk far quicker than he had anticipated, but before he gave himself any credit for his speed, he was waiting patiently for the clerk to turn and realize that the Raikoji's "bodyguard" was standing behind him. The weedy little man did, and upon catching site of Kenji's cool look, he jumped slightly.

"Damn, boy, I'll never get used to you," he muttered angrily, but before he was allowed to continued, Kenji quickly told him that he needed to see Yousaku. He glanced about, as if looking for Chizuru or Mana to appear from behind corners and start accusing him, but the halls were strangely silent. Most of the roomers had left for their lunch. "I'll tell him you came," the clerk said stiffly, eyes darting about in a fashion most like a watchful rat's. Kenji left without thanking the man. He never spoke to him more than he thought he needed to.

Lunch was uneventful, to say in the least. Kenji did not know what to expect, but he watched the crowds silently, eyes searching for a hint of pale hair, the sickening sneer he had found himself growing grudgingly accustomed to. How did they mean to contact him? He knew it was foolish to expect a reply so soon, but he still waited, something akin to nervousness wracking though his senses. It was not just his selfish dreams on the line. It was not just his life. Kenshin and Kaoru had, unwittingly, endangered themselves and the rest of his family under the means of having a simple vacation. Something nagged at him to go to the Aoi-ya, to warn them, but a wiser part of him held him back. Spies were everywhere - spies that did not originate from the Oniwabanshuu - and they would be more than willing to bring Yousaku, Kagami, or Kohaku news of a traitor. Kenji couldn't risk harming his family.

_'But what of Chizuru and Mana?' _he unwillingly nagged himself. _'They'll be hurt.'_

_'It doesn't matter.'_

_'Like hell. You're just too much of a sissy to admit that you give a damn about those girls.'_

Kenji blinked, somewhat surprised with his own thoughts. Then he snorted. He was turning out rather nicely, wasn't he? Joining men who were bent on destroying Japan's government... lying to his friends, and possibly becoming a little too attached... and now, he was talking to himself._ 'Peachy,'_ he thought irritably, and thankfully, he received no response. It seemed that the little voice had the exact thought. _'I must be going insane...' _He was about to leave when he heard a terribly familiar voice; he stiffened immediately.

"Thank you, Yasu-san. These meat buns are always a treat."

"Thank _you_, Yun-san," another voice came, this one innocent and unfamiliar. A civilian. Kenji felt the urge to pull the sakabatou from its sheath and rush to her defense, for she knew not who she was truly speaking to, but he could not afford to draw anymore unwanted eyes. A good number of people were already eyeing him suspiciously; some silently acknowledging the sword-ban, and others, a few whom he recognized from the inn, acknowledging the fact that he had failed to leave the room of two females last night. Had the situation not been in the least bit serious, Kenji would have snorted.

"Ah, Himura-san," Yousaku was suddenly behind him, a light hand on his shoulder; Kenji felt himself jolt, as if he had been burned. Yousaku blinked innocently. "Not feeling well?"

"I trust you got my message," Kenji said stiffly, to which he received an unseen nod. "That was... fast."

"I live in the Yun-ya," Yousaku told him simply. "But far away enough so that neither Chizuru-san or Mana-san will notice me." Kenji vaguely wondered why he had never at least sensed him, but he put the thought from his mind. It was unimportant. "Now, about the information."

"I... I've yet to get it in detail," Kenji suddenly found himself unsure of whether or not he should speak. Betraying the sisters' trust... it was horrible of him. But the thought of his brother and sister, his mother and father, each mangled in a grotesque manner... that forced him to continued. "But it has something to the victims of great assassins of the Bakamatsu." When he did not receive a reply, he continued, "Makoto Shishio would have used his victims' names to--"

"Destroy the already-shaky government, yes," Yousaku breathed, and even though Kenji was not looking directly at him, he could imagine the smile sparked by true excitement. "The government is hardly strong even now. This is very useful, indeed." When he continued, his voice faltered just slightly, "But what of Mana-san?"

"I've yet to gather that information," Kenji admitted, slightly confused by Yousaku's hesitation but choosing to ignore it. "But I will."

"Just concentrate on Chizuru-san," Yousaku ordered. "Get names out of her. Write them down, memorize them... just make sure you can report them to us." Kenji murmured a soft agreement and stood, turning to glance at the light-haired boy. Instead of seeing the seriousness he had heard in Yousaku's voice, he saw a blissful smile, one that broke only when he bit down on a steaming meat bun. "You may have to guard them a little more than usual. Kohaku-sama's brother - Akiro-san, the one who sent the man last night - is trying to eliminate either one of the sisters. Be seeing you, Himura-san."

"Regretfully," Kenji managed to snap back, to which the light-haired boy laughed. Kenji did, however, take the warning into consideration.

"You should take them to the festival," Yousaku shouted to him, causing the young Himura to unwillingly stiffen. "It only lasts for a month, you know."

But Kenji said nothing; he was already heading back to the inn at a speed he hoped tipped off the boy enough. Unless either sister went, a situation in which he was forced to go, he would never ask for such a stupid thing.

xXx

"Would you like to come with us to the festival tonight?"

Kenji blinked; he had just returned, had just came in to question the sturdiness of his living conditions with them, and Chizuru had asked the question. Frankly, he had suspected Mana of doing such a thing. She was much more forgiving, much more kind. And yet it was Chizuru that was questioning him, although it was quite obvious that she was doing so reluctantly. The way she ruthlessly massacred her lower lip in an attempt to keep herself from growling was evidence of that. Instead of putting her out of her misery by answering quickly, the young Himura watched her fidget for a moment in her half-bowed position. An ordinary bystander would think she was trying to flatter him by respecting him, but Kenji knew Mana had suggested she do so.

"I..." he trailed off, not because he was unsure, but because he absolutely relished the ability to make Chizuru squirm. He knew it was cruel of him, but he couldn't help it. Finally, her eyes flashed in their usual anger; she drew herself up to her full height (which was still a few inches shorter than him) and raged at him.

"You can't spare me the bloody agony of just saying _no, _can you?!?" she demanded angrily, to which Kenji held up his hands in a way far too much like his father. She continued, heedless of his reassuring words. "Mana wanted you to come, not me! I'm perfectly fine of taking care of myself!"

"I'm sure you can," he said sarcastically, causing her to bristle. "Just like you did with that man last night..."

"I had it under control, thank you, and if you don't want to come, it's all the better for me," her face was tinged red, the cause being anger or embarrassment. Kenji liked to imagine that it was both. "I'm personally sick of having you trailing us all over Kyoto! You're like a stalker."

"Hey," Kenji began, slightly offended at having been labeled as such, "that's going a little too far--"

"Feh," the young Raikoji snapped in return, ignoring Mana's attempts to quell their tempers. Their arguing sync was just too good to allow someone to interrupt them. "Then why were _you _in the baths last night?"

"It's a mixed bath! I can't help it that this hell-hole is run by a bunch of creeps!"

"_You're _the creep, so why don't you just--"

"Come to the festival with us!" Mana jumped in, having anticipated the words and reacted with perfect timing. Both Chizuru and Kenji stared at her obliviously, but she refused to back off. "Please? It'll be fun."

Kenji was about to demand that Chizuru shape up, but upon catching the begging look Mana was projecting with her eyes, he looked away ruefully. Looks like that should have been illegal. Sighing as he found his chance to continue torturing Chizuru fade away, he nodded hesitantly, earning a delighted squeal from Mana. _'Does this count as being forced to go?' _he thought, somewhat miserably, as he sat down next to them. An awkward silence followed; Kenji blinked, remembering why he had come in the first place.

"How long do you want me to stay in here?" he asked. "Because if I won't be using the other room, there's no point for me to keep paying for it--"

"You're staying in the other room," Chizuru informed him tartly, grabbing his neatly folded yukata and flinging it at him. "I'll be perfectly fine... no more nightmares or anything." Kenji was about to question her on the merit of those words, but she continued briskly, "So, Mana-ne, would you like to go out and look through the kimonos?"

"That would be wonderful," Mana said blissfully, smiling. Chizuru glanced over to Kenji, who merely shrugged, as if giving up a fight he had not even begun, and stood along with them. She spoke not a word to him as they left the building and traveled down the street.

Along the way, he would try to make pleasant conversation with her, an attempt that was shot down quickly. Chizuru would merely glance over to him, cock an eyebrow as if bored, and then turn to talk to her sister. After the fifth attempt or so, Kenji felt his temper rising. This went unnoticed by the sisters (maybe Chizuru knew it, but she chose to ignore it), who were staring in awe at the various stalls that had already been set up, many scheduled to open when night fell. They traced delicate fingers over the silken fabric of kimonos, they marveled as the workers set up their fireworks in preparation, and they chatted obliviously with shopkeepers. Kenji watched this all from a distance; while his temper was still rising, he found himself just slightly happy for them. Moments such as these were short-lived. They would soon be jolted back to the harsh reality of what was happening around them, what they were being forced to do... what _he _was forcing them to do. Before his stomach could knot up in the usual pang of guilt, Kenji shook himself free of the thoughts, concentrating on the irritation that was slowly becoming anger. Why was she being so damn _quiet? _The looks she refused to meet, the silent treatment, the tightening of her lips into a line as he spoke... it all infuriated him. He had already gone over the possibility that she would be angry with him after he had forcefully wormed that information from her, but she should have been over it by now.

_'God, could you be any more stupid?' _the nagging, irritable voice in the back of his head demanded. _'She's got every right to be mad at you. If you want me to help, I could have her against a wall and apologize to her properly...'_ As the last sentence flitted through his head, Kenji bit back a cry; when the two sisters turned to look at him in confusion, he waved it off, turning his surprise into a cough. Were those... were those _his _thoughts? No way... Kenji swore under his breath as he felt his cheeks heating up with the unusual feeling of a blush. He ignored the voice, hoping against hope that it wasn't there. He wasn't insane. He wasn't... was he? Panic flashed through his mind, and although it was a brief fear, the after-effects lingered. Before the fear grew, he extinguished it. It was just a dirtier side of him... that was all. Nothing to labor on.

"Kenji-san, what do you think?"

Kenji's train of thought was shattered as he looked up to see Mana, leaning over and pointing into the depths of another stall. Various articles of clothing, both traditional and western, lined the walls and hung from the ceilings. Kenji looked to Chizuru, hoping to catch a look from her; he suppressed a growl upon finding that she was staring coolly into the stall without so much as glancing towards him. But Mana's question still hung in the air, preventing him from challenging her suddenly calm behavior.

"They're... they're very nice," he said, smiling in a way he found sickeningly like his father. He took another step forward, examining the stitching of a particular gi. Although his thoughts were currently on the stubborn Raikoji, he could not help but admire the masterful work. Although the entire garment was black, he could easily pick out the finery and work that had been put into it. But even as he tried to force his mind into the fabric, he found himself thinking of a certain girl with brown hair and angry, blue eyes... and he unintentionally frowned.

"Kenji-san? Something wrong?"

"Ah... no," he replied, straightening himself. "I... I just realized that I don't have enough money for it."

"Mm," Mana mumbled, sighing as she looked upon a very nice pink kimono, one that was dappled with yellow and white koi fish. Kenji tried to meet Chizuru's eyes again - it was the last time, he promised himself - but he found that she, too, was staring at the black gi.

For a few more hours, the threesome mulled about around the stalls, marveling at the stalls. Kenji, despite what he had said earlier, was nowhere near poor; Yousaku had given him a hefty amount of money to "spoil them with". He knew that Kenji would never try running. He would leave his family to the wolves if he did so. Nevertheless, his earlier words restricted him from purchasing the kimonos he caught them staring at for a little too long. Never before had he wanted to spoil anyone... well, never in his remembrance. Kaoru had told him many a time that as a child, he had brought in all sorts of random objects for her. But the urge to buy that ribbon he caught Chizuru looking at, the will to purchase those hairpins they oggled at... it was, if anything, scary to the point of amusing. It was only when it grew dark did he dare to, under the cover of night, buy a few of these things. He did it with all the speed he could muster while the sisters stared at the fireworks. Whenever a stall-keeper would grin knowingly at him, he felt his stomach lurch; he was only thankful that there was the darkness to cover his face, for he feared he was blushing like a little girl.

"Do you want to head back to the inn?" he asked, the carefully wrapped packages tucked away under his arm. Chizuru rose an eyebrow as she watched him stow them away, but Mana shook her head obliviously.

"We don't need to be dressed up tonight," she said, smiling. "We have all month to go, anyway." Chizuru made a disbelieving sound in the back of her throat, but nothing more. Mana cluelessly asked if she had a throat cold, to which said sister shook her head and busied herself with the fireworks. The three were mostly content with watching the spectacle for a few moments (Kenji found himself thinking of Chizuru's quiet behavior again, much to his chagrin) but it was after the colors began repeating themselves that they began to move around, entertaining themselves with games that were common to the Gion Festival.

"Wow, Chizuru-ne," Mana gasped as Chizuru skillfully plucked a fish from the tank with her flimsy net. The vendor congratulated her and offered her a bag filled with water, to which the young Raikoji plunked her new fish in and tied the top. She gently lifted the small creature to her face to study its blue-green scales, smiling lightly. "What are you going to name it?"

"Maybe just Koi," she murmured, using both the species of fish and the endearment between couples as a name. "...Yeah. He'll be my Koi." Kenji's eyes narrowed just slightly, but he said nothing. He wasn't going to come close to thinking that he was becoming jealous over a fish. He wasn't. It was just so utterly stupid.

The group had settled down in a local restaurant for a bit of sake (Chizuru had been against it at first, but after the first or second cup she had calmed down considerably), when Mana, who had been looking out the window, stiffened. Had she been hallucinating...? She was not a heavy drinker, so it may have been the alcohol, but... no, there it was again. Light and fading quickly, as easily traced as a shadow during night, but it was there. The red lantern of the pub made it a bit difficult to see. She stood, and Kenji and Chizuru, who had been arguing about how much sake they should allow each other, looked up to her with confused eyes.

"I... I just need to go out for some air," she murmured. When Kenji was about to rise, she waved a hand. "It's nothing. I'll be right back."

"Akiro might--"

"Don't worry, Kenji-san," Mana said a little too quickly. "There are too many people around for me to be easily kidnapped, and besides..." She glanced over to Chizuru, who was already becoming a little red in the face, "Chizuru-ne tends to get a little violent when she's drunk..."

"Wha--" Kenji began, but Chizuru had abandoned the small cup in favor of the jug. She was chugging the sake down almost ferociously. "Ch-Chizuru--!"

Mana ignored the two and stepped outside; her eyes scanned the crowd for the familiar shade of white-blonde she had detected earlier, but she could see none. A small sigh escaped her. Maybe she had just been seeing things... but as she was about to return to the pub, she caught site of a shadow dashing around a corner. Completely ignoring the growing worry within her, Mana stepped gingerly around the corner and peered into the darkness. The lights from the stalls made it much easier to see, but the alley was deep. She took many wavering steps towards the darkness and stopped as her vision once again failed to aid her. She turned around once again; what she sought was not there.

It then became obvious to Mana how far she had traveled into the alley, and, despite the various lights that made the exit obvious, she was reluctant to leave. The anticipation, the hope... gone. Another sigh escaped her lips, accompanied by something akin to a hiccup. Before she could allow herself to become totally miserable, she lifted her chin, inhaling sharply. She was being silly. There was no use crying over something like this. But as she was about to regretfully leave the darkness, hands were seen on the edges of her vision; before she was allowed to cry out, a hand was clamped over her mouth, accompanied by another pulling her back by her midsection.

And before Mana was allowed to properly react; before she was allowed to scream through the hand covering her mouth, before she was allow to kick and struggle as Chizuru had done so often in the past, she was pulled into the darkness of the alley.

_to be continued..._

_A/N: There are some parts I like about this chapter, but some I don't like so much. Like the beginning... heh heh, when in doubt, shove in a lovely little nightmare. Gosh, I can't get any less predictable, can I?_

_I'm sorry this took so long, but school is being evil to me. I could rant about teachers and tests forever, but I don't want to bore you anymore than I already am... eheh. I'm also sorry for any mistakes, but it's kinda late and I wanna sleep... :bums around:_


	12. Tranquility and Dysphoria

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin.**

For a moment, Mana drowned herself in blind panic. She allowed herself to kick, mutely scream against the hand over her mouth, and to scrape her nails against her attacker's arms, but her efforts were in vain. In hopes that the man was getting cocky, she shifted her head just slightly and sunk her teeth into his hand. Something of a surprised cry came from her attacker, but upon hearing it, Mana instantly stiffened. It was once this happened that the arm which had been holding her around the stomach slackened considerably in favor of stroking her hair gently. Mana released her teeth from their hold, tasting blood, but she nonetheless sighed contentedly and fell loosely into his arms.

"Sorry," she murmured, turning her head in hopes of catching sight of his light hair. It was still terribly dark, but the lanterns from the alley exit provided enough light, and her eyes had grown used to it. She could catch site of blonde hair, tinted to a burning color by the light of the orange lamps. "I thought I saw you earlier, but I... I panicked," something akin to a laugh escaped her lips.

"Don't worry," he said, and then a mischievious note entered his voice, "I can be very difficult to catch when I feel like it." For a moment, the two seemed content to stay in each other's embrace; Mana knew they were both thinking about how infinitely wrong a relation such as theirs was, but she also knew that they were both willing to break rules. As he buried his head into the crook of her shoulder, Mana felt his words against her : "I'm sorry if I scared you."

"Your hand," she murmured, brushing her fingers against the teeth marks, each oozing blood. His only response was to smile against her neck; his smile was a habit more than anything with other people, but around her, his emotions were genuine. Mana felt her own smile widen, but still, she continued, "I'm sorry..."

"I told you, it's nothing." His arms around her tightened just slightly and he inhaled, as if memorizing her scent. Mana vaguely wondered if he had, by now; they had embraced each other a number of times, and although they had not done anything... beyond manners... he had, many a time, commented on her "wonderful" smell. _'Like an ume...' _he had once mused. But before Mana was allowed to drift in happy thoughts, guilt settled in her stomach; guilt and fear.

"Yousaku," she murmured, her tone becoming serious, "Chizuru-ne doesn't know about... us... but I don't want to l--"

"Mana," Yousaku pleaded, "once this is all over... once Kohaku-sama has what he wants--"

"He won't let you go, Yousaku," Mana said resolutely. "You're too useful. And..." she trailed off for a moment, swallowing as she let the fact that they had both been dreading pass her lips, "...once they find out about Chizuru-ne and my information, we'll become expendable..." She said this both for self-preservation and because of the overwhelming truth in the words. Yousaku's jaw tightened just slightly; all traces of the smile he wore constantly around others was gone, replaced by frustration.

"If that is the case..." But before he could speak, he trailed off. He had fought so hard, sacrificed so much for the unknown dangers facing the Japanese government; if he stopped now, it would have all been for nothing. If he stopped when Kohaku had gained the power he craved, he would, despite himself, regret having let the possibilities slip through his fingers. The latter of the two seemed easily resolved when it came to Mana. The only thing rivaling his feelings for her was the devotion he bore for Kohaku. It was because of him that Yousaku had become strong, that he had been given the power to fight and put his abilities to their best measures. But, loathed to voice such thoughts to Mana, he merely buried his face into the crook of her neck and sighed. "I'll figure something out."

"About the boy with us," Mana suddenly said, her eyes insistent, "h-he doesn't know anything. He's just a friend of Chizuru-ne's..."

"...I see," Yousaku said, smiling against her neck. The smile did nothing to match the guilt that gnawed at his stomach, pressing him to confess that he was lying to her. As far as Mana was concerned, she and Chizuru were living in a perfectly safe inn for the time being. She knew that he was working for the enemy, but a history between them had resolved her worries; she naively trusted him, and for that, he had lied to her. He hated it. _'Himura-san and I are in very similar situations,' _he thought, but where the idea would have usually been funny, he only found it bitterly true.

"You'd better go," he said, and before she could protest, he continued, "You came with friends, right? I'm sure they'll be missing you."

"But... yes," she murmured, looking slightly sad but nonetheless offering him a smile before she turned. He couldn't help but wonder why, when he had always pinned a smile to his features and she had only used one when she meant it, she was so much better at it. Didn't the amount of time you put into something make you good at it? He mentally shrugged. "I'll see you, Yousaku-san."

"See you, Ume," he murmured, pleased to catch a smile on her features at his nickname for her. Then he turned, and, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness behind him, followed a darkened path that no poor soul would willingly pursue.

xXx

_"This is Raikoji Mana. For the next week, she will be your ward."_

_A fourteen-year-old Yousaku merely stared at the girl sitting before him. She was bound in no physical way, but her energy had been completely drained; it seemed she could hardly keep herself in a sitting position. Her wrists were raw, indicating that she had been bound, but had just been released. Her feet were partially hidden between the tattered yukata she wore, but he could guess that her ankles, too, were burned from the ropes. Her hair was in disarray. Her eyes he had yet to explore, for they were clamped shut in an uneasy slumber._

_"Kagami-sama," he chanced, "what use is she of?"_

_"That, for the time being, is none of your concern," Kagami returned coldly. "But if you prove yourself as useful as you seem, Kohaku-sama may find favor for you."_

_"Kohaku-sama..." Yousaku murmured, tasting the word on his tongue. The first translation that came to mind was 'amber'. And, like amber, Kohaku-sama was said to be cold, hard-hearted, preserving only the memories he contained. It suited him. _

_"Boy," Kagami said, distracting him momentarily, "you have been accepted to a group that has the potential to change Japan. You should be honored."_

_"I am," he answered automatically, but Kagami did not seem appeased._

_"Then never," he said, eyes taking in his wide eyes, his slightly-opened mouth, his entirely confused expression, "look like you regret it. As far as Kohaku-sama is concerned, you will smile. Don't forget that."_

_"I... I won't," he said, trying the smile on. It felt terribly empty, useless, but it seemed to satisfy his current master. For that, he would keep the facade up. _

_"How long have you been waiting?"_

_Yousaku blinked; the question was completely random, and what was even more surprising was the fact that it had come from the girl who had refused to speak with him for two weeks now. Kagami had called him at the end of the first week, saying that Mana would be staying longer than they had planned. Exactly how long, nobody knew. Apparently, Mana's sister - he had not even known about a sister - was being difficult for the cronies that had been sent to collect her. Kagami had told him to expect a few months with this girl._

_"Excuse me, Raikoji-san?"_

_"How long," she said slowly, her eyes tracing the patterns of the wall she sat next to, "have you been waiting?"_

_"Waiting for what?" he asked, puzzled. She took her eyes from the wall and stared at him for the first time; he mentally noted that her eyes were greyish-blue. _

_"Waiting," she murmured, "for someone to expose their humanity to you."_

He would never understand those words.

xXx

"...The frog's song...! We can hear it, ribbit, ribbit...!"

"Chizuru, could you please tone it dow--"

"_Shut it, _Kenji!" she snapped, turning to glare at him. The reason for her spontaneous singing and worse-than-usual temper could be attributed to the massive amount of sake she had consumed before Kenji had finally been able to pull the jug away from her. The young Himura rose his hands in a gesture very much like his father's, a smile plastered to his face to keep Chizuru in happy spirits and the crowd around them from thinking that he was harassing her.

"I was just thinking that we could, urm, watch the fireworks..."

"Screw the fireworks!" she snapped, pointing to the sky above her and swaying uneasily. From behind her, Kenji caught site of a few men pointing and sniggering, pleased as the fabric of her kimono swung perilously around her hips. Kenji felt his head burn in embarrassment, but before he could look away, he had to get the drunk a safe distance away from the crowd. He grabbed her around the shoulder (something a bit too close for his liking, considering the already-smothering crowd) and led her away from the people, particularly the ones who had been oggling her a moment earlier. As they abandoned the dense rows of citizens in favor of actual air, Chizuru continued to sing the song of the frog. Sadly enough, her drunken voice slurred the words; the phrase "e gero", one used to translate the voices of the frogs, came off sounding as if she were saying "to puke".

"Kenjiiii," she whined, "my arm hurts."

"Sorry," he replied simply, but he did not let go. "I'm not quite ready to trust you with your feet."

"Can I sing the frog song?"

"Um... I'd rather you didn't."

"Oh... okay," she said, and strangely enough, she didn't sound irritated or sad. For a moment, the young Himura dared to hope that she was allowing him some peace and quiet, but that was nowhere near the case.

"Elephant-san, elephant-san!" she broke out into an entirely different song. Kenji sighed in defeat. "Your nose is long, you know!"

"That's right, my mother's also is long," he murmured along, figuring that if he couldn't shut up, he could quickly end the song and be done with it. Chizuru grinned, quite obviously pleased with the fact that he was joining in on her singing. Much to his dismay, she repeated the song three more times before finally becoming bored of singing altogether. Once again hoping beyond hope that she had finally settled down, Kenji glanced along the buildings. "Where's Mana-san?"

"I dunno," she chimed, a sharp contrast to her usual worry for her sister. Kenji made a mental note to never allow Chizuru sake. The sudden thought of her and Hiko having a chugging contest caused him to shudder. It was only when Kenji tossed the thought aside in favor of searching for Mana that he saw her, watching the fireworks, a bit of sadness lingering in her eyes. Kenji grabbed Chizuru's arm again - earning another mutter from her - and dragged her towards the other Raikoji, who noticed them upon entry.

"Something wrong, Mana-san?" he asked, slightly worried. Faint traces of tears lingered in her eyes, but none had been shed. There were no tracks on her cheeks, no puffy, redness. But her blue-grey eyes were so much more wet than usual. Mana's eyes widened and she smiled brightly, wiping them feverishly. "Oh, I... no, I'm fine," she murmured. "I was just staring at the fireworks a little too long..."

Kenji was not inclined to believe her, but she did not give off any particularly miserable feelings, so he chose to leave her be. Mana's smile widened as she took in Chizuru, who was still very red in the face and audibly searching for another song to sing.

"My, she had too much sake," she said quietly, beaming. Kenji could not find it in himself to laugh. Mana looked up at him, a strangely clever gleam in her eyes. "If I didn't know you were a gentleman, I would have been worried about you taking advantage of her behavior, Kenji-san!"

"Mana-san..." he half-sighed, half-stuttered. Mana giggled in return, supporting her sister for a moment before the clever gleam returned.

"Would you like to take a walk with her? You know, just to blow off some steam."

"I don't know if that's a good idea," Kenji began, instantly against the idea for more than one reason. "I shouldn't leave you alone."

"I'll be fine, I'll be fine!" she returned, waving a hand casually. "There are too many people. Like I said earlier, if I cause a scene, someone is sure to help."

"Excuse me for saying," Kenji began slowly, "but not everyone is as trustworthy as you believe." To this, Mana blinked and her smile returned, her deep eyes twinkling. He was grateful for this behavior; if he had said such a thing to Chizuru, she would have gotten angry.

"Excuse me for saying," she repeated, changing the end of the sentence, "but despite the fact that there aren't that many good people out there, they do exist. You just need to look a little."

"I wish I were as optimistic as you," Kenji murmured, helping a staggeringly-drunk Chizuru to her feet and preparing to leave. He could only hope that what she said was true.

"You worry too much, Kenji-san," she said brightly. "There are plenty of good people. You, for example." To this, Kenji looked to the ground and didn't answer. He was terribly glad that he had already turned around. If Mana saw his face, even she would begin to question his loyalties. He was that obvious.

Kenji was unsure of how far they had walked, but he knew it was much further than they should have gone. Despite this knowledge, he continued. It seemed as if his feet and his brain were no longer connected. Nonetheless, he was nowhere near bored. He had Chizuru to thank for that; she chattered endlessly, a trait he had not seen in her sober form, and she cooed at the various stalls. Her sudden perkiness seemed to give off an aura begging for attention; surely enough, many men were staring at the two as they walked through the slowly-thinning crowds.

"Oi, woman. You'll pour my sake, won't you?"

Kenji barely took a look at the men, but he was more than ready to tell them to back off, that Chizuru wasn't in the mood to pour their damn drinks. But, much to his horror, it was the meaty, sweaty and suggestive hand that landed on _his _shoulder that belonged to the speaker. Kenji immediately stiffened.

"Well? Woncha? I'm not in the mood for a frigid bitch."

"Hu hu, Goro-kun, you hafta be nice wit da ladies," another man, this one considerably thinner yet sporting a pot belly (a very likely result from over-drinking), said. He stepped forward and leaned on Chizuru, draping an arm over her shoulder and shaking the bottle next to her cheek suggestively. "Would you lovely ladies like ta pour our drinks?"

"No, thank you," Kenji barely ground out before fixing "Goro" with a glare that was probably not quite as amber as he would have pleased, but was nonetheless threatening. Where this look would have told most men that Kenji was indeed a male, Goro was far too drunk to realize this. He glared back and rose a had, obviously planning to punish the arrogant "little girl" he had picked up. But before his fist could find a place on Kenji's face, the young Himura reacted swiftly; the poor fool's knuckles cracked against the hilt of the sakabatou, which had been drawn up in front of Kenji's face without a moment's notice. It was then that the thinner of the two interpreted his gender.

"Damn, Goro-kun!" he howled with laughter. "You fell in love wit a little boy!" To this, Goro jerked his hand away as if he had been burned, gaping at the young man. The other man sniggered incessantly.

"Brat," Goro hissed, holding his bloodied knuckles. Kenji, despite being enraged by the fact that he had once again been mistaken for a boy, rose an eyebrow coolly.

"We'll be leaving, Chizuru-san," he said, attaching the honorific to the end of the young Raikoji's name merely for the sake of showing that she was to be respected. However, the effect did nothing to satisfy either of the drunks. In an attempt to turn away coldly, Kenji left his shoulder exposed. The meaty hand once again descended on it and he glared again, but Goro was not one to be easily thrown off.

As far as Kenji was concerned, there was a very easy solution to thugs like this, and before he could count to three, he had knocked out both fools with the sheathed sakabatou. Chizuru "ooed" and "awed" as he rose a foot to Goro's lumped head, prodding it carelessly. A few people from the crowd watched with expressions consisting of horror and amazement. However, before they were allowed to become suspicious, Chizuru had enveloped Kenji in a crushing hug.

"Mah hero!" she squealed, and a quickly suffocating and terribly embarrassed Kenji was unsure if she was drunk or just playing along. The latter was confirmed as she turned to the crowd, her blue eyes growing wide and teary as she addressed the people. "Those horrible thugs were harassing me and my samurai came to the rescue!"

Kenji had never dragged Chizuru so quickly away from people, and if the whistles he received from the onlookers suggested anything, they didn't think he was taking her away to escape the embarrassment. They had other things in mind.

"I'd rather you didn't do that again," Kenji said coldly once the two had entered the solitude of an abandoned alley. Chizuru grinned deviously, and before Kenji was allowed to berate her, she grabbed his hand and linked his pinkie-finger with hers own. Before the young Himura could question her, she spoke, and in sharp contrast to her once-perky voice, she sounded quite solemn.

"I made a promise with Mana-ne," she murmured, watching their entwined fingers with fascination. Kenji resisted the urge to squirm as she continued, "We promised to never lose each other and to always be there for each other." A slightly bitter smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "I haven't been holding up my end of the bargain for that last one too well."

Kenji had already guessed where this was going, and he wanted no part in it. Her intentions were endearing, despite the fact that she was still most likely drunk, but he didn't want them. He didn't need any more guilt than he already had. "Chizuru--"

"Kenji, I wanna make a promise with _you_ now," she said. "It doesn't have to be the same, but... you know?"

_'No,' _he thought almost frantically, _'no, and I don't want to.'_

"I promise," Chizuru began, "to always do my best to trust you, Kenji. What are you going to promise?"

"Chizuru," he began slowly, "you're not really yourself right now..."

"Maybe," she said, a small smile on her face. "But... please?"

"This is stupid," he said, attempting to untangle his little finger from hers, but failing. Chizuru sighed and finally released him. The hurt on her features, a hurt usually masked when she was sober, was a bit too much for him to look at. "Chizuru."

"Sorry," she murmured. "I guess it is."

"I'm just not in the mood for it," he said calmly, and although his first intentions had been to comfort her, the words came out all wrong. "And tomorrow morning, neither will you be." He could already imagine her, eyes narrowed accusingly, a furious blush painting her face as she denied everything she had said. But all the same, the face she wore now - the face of a child who had been brutally scolded - caused him to link his pinky finger with hers. In a childish gesture, he swung their linked hands back and forth for a moment, silent. Chizuru respected that silence.

_'If you break a promise, drink a thousand needles and cut your finger,' _he thought calmly, mentally reciting the song one would usually sing upon making a promise. It was a horrible song, he realized, and he was glad he had chosen not to voice it. What was the punishment for lying, Kenji wondered? If it was anywhere near as painful as drinking needles, he would have been writhing in agony many a time by now. He would make no promises... yet.

"Have you had enough fresh air?" he asked, changing the subject abruptly. Chizuru merely nodded and turned in the direction of the lights, of the people that she could so easily mistrust. It was then that Kenji realized that on every side, she and her sister were facing enemies; they had no real friends. As the last statement fluttered through his mind, Kenji found himself questioning his own role in their lives. He had fooled himself, temporarily, into thinking that he was their friend. But now he realized that he was nothing but their executioner, their grave-digger. What would Kohaku decide to do once they had received the necessary information? The idea caused him to shudder.

_'Chizuru,' _he finally clarified to himself, _'I will protect you from others. But I can't promise that you'll be safe from me.'_

And with that thought, he followed her into the crowd.

xXx

"You sake, good sirs," the waitress murmured, setting the platter at the table. True to her words, two large jugs of sake sat upon it. The first man, a tall, thin one with commonly narrowed eyes, nodded briefly to her before turning back to the other. He, too, was tall and thin, but his facial features held a softness to them. One may have mistaken them for brothers, if the first hadn't borne wrinkles from a couple decades seniority over the other. After having paid the waitress, the second man turned to the sake and pulled the cork from the jug, pouring it ceremoniously into a bowl. The older man sniffed irritably.

"I swear, boy, you get more like your mother every day," he muttered, to which his son gave him something between a wolfish grin and a placid smile. His father preferred the former of the two.

"I do my best," the second said. When his father poured himself a much more generous amount of the sake, he frowned. "You shouldn't drink so heavily. You already smoke too much for your health."

"There you go again," he half-snapped, half-sighed. "I've been drinking for a long time. It's not going to kill me. Neither is smoking. You, on the other hand," he rose an inquiring eyebrow, "could stand to drink a little more."

"A bit is fine, but my wife doesn't prefer me coming home staggeringly drunk."

"I never liked that woman of yours much," his father drawled, receiving a dangerous look from his son. He shrugged nonetheless. Such a look wouldn't scare a man who had fathered it. "But Tokio is crazy about her, so I suppose I have no choice."

"One of Mother's best qualities is that she keeps you on a leash."

"Watch your mouth, boy," he snapped, narrowing his eyes. His glare would have chilled anyone beside his wife and children, each of whom had grown used to it. It had only worked until Tsutomu had reached the tender age of six. Then the boy had started realizing that his father's murderous glares were, in his case, all bark and hardly any bite. "I also put up with her because I expect some grandchildren."

"There _you _go again," Tsutomu said. "You're pretty demanding."

"I wait. I don't go forcing you two into the same room," his father returned coolly. "That, my boy, is being quite generous. How long have you been married to that girl? Two years now? I should think you're not cowering on opposite ends of the futon by now."

"Midori may be pregnant," Tsutomu replied simply, calmly. "Will that satisfy you for now? Besides, Tsuyoshi has been seeing a young woman for some time now."

"About time. Name?" He hardly seemed pleased with the fact that his daughter-in-law could be carrying a child. He merely wanted another name, another fact to depend upon. He had always been that way. Tsutomu, however, had been thinking about names for some time.

"Motoko, if it's a girl. A boy would be Minoru."

"I was talking about Tsuyoshi's woman."

"Ah," he said, pouring himself another small amount of sake. "I believe it would be Asaba Yukiko."

"Never heard of her," he said dismissively. Tsutomu said nothing; if his father hadn't heard of this woman, permitting her to join the family would be difficult. Despite these facts, his mother, Tokio, would most definitely allow a marriage if she found Yukiko fitting. Saitou Tokio's tests depended on character, not skill.

"Remind me why we're here again," Tsutomu muttered, glancing up at his father. Saito downed another cup of sake and set the cup on the table.

"We're investigating a situation in Kyoto," he said a matter-of-factly. "There may be an opium heist going on somewhere. I've received reports of it having been in powdered form. It may be hidden in the kimonos Kyoto is importing."

"You think there may be more to it than that," Tsutomu said, interpreting his father's intense gaze. Saitou simply nodded in return.

"We've received rumors about a rebellious group centering themselves in Kyoto," he answered. "Apparently, they've been in operation for some time now."

"Meaning they're either very small in size, or very discreet."

"Yes," Saitou murmured. Tsutomu had been working with the police for a few years, but his rank was not as high as his father's. That did nothing to hinder his talent with a katana and a gun (Saito preferred the former once again) and his natural ability to command and execute orders. "If they're small in size, they should be relatively easy to crush. But they may also have a trump card. In that case, we would need to crush that first."

"Where should we begin investigating?"

"You will start out at the docks. There will be other policemen there, under the pretense of checking the cargo. Take care not to expose the opium, should it be in the clothes. But keep an eye on the men packaging the opium. Any men who appear suspicious, you will keep tabs on."

"Seems boring," Tsutomu said, but there was a wolfish grin on his face. Saitou was tempted to sneer, but he did not. He merely continued with his orders.

"I will be looking around the inns in Kyoto," he said. "If they need to keep tabs on all their goons, they'll need a centrally located place."

"There are a lot of inns in Kyoto."

"Which is where you come in," Saitou replied simply. "If you find any suspicious men, you are to follow them. Give me addresses when you return."

"Understood," Tsutomu set his sake aside, allowing his father to finish the rest. "Take care not to get too violent. Alcohol does that to you."

"Feh," Saitou mumbled as his son stood, bowed, and left to rejoin his wife. It was when he was watching Tsutomu leave that his eyes widened slightly. It was vague and swift, something that could easily been dismissed as a mirage, but...

In an ordinary situation, Saitou wouldn't abandon something he had paid for, much less sake, but the situation was nowhere near ordinary. He abruptly stood and left. The second jug of the sake left untouched, abandoned by its would-be-consumer.

Saitou left the restaurant in a brisk walk. He was not going to waste his time running; if what he had seen earlier was what he thought it was, he had nothing to worry about. He had memorized that profile, the shape of the eyes, back in the Bakamatsu. He had used that image to fuel his strength, to promise himself that he would one day fight that man and end their little score. And yet, despite the fact that he knew the Hitokiri Battousai was older, his features marred by age, he could not pretend that he had not just seen him. Even the hair was the same; it was pulled into a traditional high-pony-tail, like those worn by the samurai. As Saitou wove through the crowd, his eyes searched for the familiar face. When he had first confronted the Battousai in Tokyo, he had recognized him only by his hair and obvious skills. But the hardness in his facial features, the feral characteristics that identified him as a cold killer, had been missing. The rurouni had very thoroughly beaten down the Battousai.

But, if only for a moment, he had seen the Battousai. For only a second, the all-too-familiar frame had passed by the restaurant's front window, the unfamiliar frame of a woman following it. But the girl did not matter.

_'...There.'_ And before him stood a slightly exasperated copy of the Battousai. As he looked, Saito could pick out the differences the darkness had hidden earlier. His eyes were blue. His hair was brown. The absence of a scar marring his cheek was painfully obvious. But that was it; besides those small details, this child was everything the Battousai had been. And, whether it was for show or not, there was a sword tied to his hakama. Saito's hand instinctively twitched, eager to clasp the hilt of his own weapon, to challenge this man, but his control beat down the urge. He watched for a moment as the boy spoke inaudibly to another young woman, this girl looking a good deal like the one behind him. Siblings? Probably. But, as he had determined earlier, they were unimportant. What was important was that Himura Kenshin had, no doubt, an heir in the legacy of killing. The ex-rurouni was a peace-loving fool and would no doubt be against such things, but it was true. The boy was quite obviously raw and untrained - his foolish mother had probably taught him Kamiya Kasshin - but he did show a slight amount of swordsman's grace in his movements. The boy suddenly stiffened and turned in Saitou's direction; the policeman mentally applauded such an act. Even now, he was sensing that he was being watched, and he had become alert. He had admirable talent... for one spawned by the Battousai.

For a moment, their eyes locked; a deep, wavering blue met molten gold. The boy said nothing, but his gaze questioned Saitou curiously, to which the policeman's eyes gave no answer. But it was quite obvious that he had not just chanced upon those eyes.

One look was enough for Saitou. Allowing a sneer to creep across his lips, he turned without a word and melted into the crowd. He could feel the boy's eyes following him until he was most certainly out of site.

Saitou had given up on fighting the ex-rurouni. There was no point in fighting a man that did not exist. But that boy - that boy so obviously fathered by the fabled killer of the Bakamatsu - could keep the killer, if he so desired. He had never killed, but there was a first time for everything. Saitou could read his innocence through the way he so easily moved, the way his emotions shown through on his features.

Saitou was suddenly looking forward to searching the inns.

After all, he would have to thank Himura Kenshin for bringing the demon back to life.

xXx

"...Kenji-san?"

"Hm?" Kenji blinked, torn from his reverie. He looked to Mana, who stared back with confused eyes.

"Is something wrong? You froze for a moment."

"It's... it's nothing," he said dismissively, but Mana did not seem satisfied. She looked back to the crowd and Kenji realized that she, too, had seen the strange man.

"Was it that policeman?" she asked, basing his supposed career on the uniform he wore. Kenji, easily guessing that the stubborn qualities Chizuru prided herself for would be in Mana, merely nodded. "He was staring at you for a moment."

"Yes," Kenji replied, then, "he was strange. And he... annoyed me."

Mana blinked, then smiled. "That's not very nice, Kenji-san."

To this, Kenji merely shrugged and showed an exhausted Chizuru to a seat. It was the truth.

xXx

"Misao-dono, I was wondering it you could assist me with something."

Misao blinked, then nodded. It wasn't often when Kenshin asked for favors, and when he did, it was usually for informative purposes. She quality of the Oniwabanshuu she prided the most was their ability to gather information discreetly. She paused for a moment, surrendering her pile of clothes to a worker in the Aoi-ya, and showed the former rurouni to the main office.

"What d'you need?" she asked cheerily. Kenshin, instead of offering his token placid smile, frowned and narrowed his eyes. Misao's happy behavior immediately fell; something important had happened, and this information was something Kenshin needed badly.

"When we were on the train to Kyoto," he began, "Kaoru was attacked." A slight gasp escaped Misao - if not for the fact that Kaoru was currently in prime form, bossing around her children and helping about in the Aoi-ya with ease - she would have been seriously worried. Kenshin continued, "There were two of them. I don't know what the other looked like, but the first... he was a boy, maybe around Kenji's age--" He stopped suddenly, then, inhaling just slightly, moved on, "Anyway, he had very light hair and green eyes. He was quite skilled, although I'm not sure about his weapon of choice."

"You want the Oniwabanshuu to find this boy?" Misao questioned, to which Kenshin merely nodded. If he had thought he could get the information himself, he would have questioned their willingness, but Kaoru's safety had already been challenged and he was not going to allow it to happen again. Misao forced determination into her voice, "Well, it shouldn't be too hard. Those features are pretty recognizable in Japan. Was he Japanese?"

"There was a bit of a foreigner in his face," Kenshin provided. "But there was no accent."

"We'll look into any families with those characteristics," Misao assured him. "Can you remember anything else about him?"

"Nothing," Kenshin answered, a bitter note tinging his voice. Misao merely shrugged in an attempt to comfort him. Kenshin's nervousness did nothing to increase her own confidence; he was always the one in control, always the one with who could be depended upon. Kenshin had been tutored under the belief that one could not afford to be unsure. If he did not know what was happening and did not have actions to provide for himself, he was breaking a law that had been beaten into him. He was leading himself and his friends down a dark, unsure path, one that contained many unseen obstacles. But Kenshin had also been taught to adapt, another teaching he had committed himself to and had performed many a time.

Misao then thought of Kenji, who believed himself to always have the situation under control. He could adapt, but he was in constant trust of himself, something that could be considered both arrogant and egotistical. The female ninja stiffened a bit upon remembering how the boy had bossed her around and had, in the end, gotten away with it. The stiffening was followed by a bristle. Where had her spine gone in such a crucial moment? Son or no, if that boy tried anything else with her or her family, he would get a kunai to the head. She could promise him that. But as she set aside her grudge for the moment, Misao came down to the basics: Kenji was so terribly different from Kenshin.

"Misao-dono," Kenshin murmured, his voice containing both a question and a statement. Misao blinked, pulled from her comparative thoughts. Kenshin continued, albeit a bit more hesitantly than he had when discussing Kaoru's attackers, "...Kenji. I have no exact destinations in mind, but the first place he would go would be Kyoto--"

"He's here," Misao returned a bit silently, to which Kenshin's eyes widened. The news was both good and bad; Kenshin had been hoping to meet his son and reunite him with his family, if only for a short time, but the somber way in which Misao spoke suggested that there would be no great welcoming. Said ninja, realizing the effect of her words, shook her head slightly and allowed a smile to curl her lips. "He... visited a while ago. He needed information."

"Information? What about?"

Misao twisted her hands in the folds of her clothes for a moment, contemplating her own answer. Kenshin had every right to know what his son was doing, what he was after. It would be in Kenji's best interests to alert Kenshin of his training with Seijuro Hiko; if Kenji's body would, as his father's had been, be damaged by the training, Kenshin would definitely wish to intervene. What would cause Hiko to take Kenji on as a student, anyway? Even as Misao questioned this, she found herself answering: Kenji had potential. Kenji was arrogant and cynical.

A bit _too much _like Hiko.

Misao shuddered at the thought.

"He wanted information on Seijuro, Himura," she said seriously. Kenshin's eyes, instead of widening more as was expected, narrowed slightly before he looked to the table in front of him, seemingly memorizing the grains in the wood. Misao watched him for a moment, curious for his reply; she blinked in surprise when he finally spoke.

"He'll be wanting the Hiten style, then." The words were bitter, yet failing to deny that this was indeed the truth. Kenshin seemed both angered with his son and with himself. Misao felt no need to nod. Everything was out in the open. Everything was so easily exposed, and although Kenji had made it clear that he did not want his parents getting in the way, it would happen eventually. And when such a thing happened, Misao knew she would be on Kenshin's side. Kenji was a good kid - he had potential, he was clever, and he _did _have a heart - but he was also dangerously confident. Misao was in no way going to back down if it came to facing Kenji. She hoped to avoid fighting the young Himura altogether, if only for the sake of Kaoru and Kenshin.

"Himura--" she began, unsure of how to word her thoughts, but Kenshin interrupted her as he stood and smiled placidly.

"Thank you, Misao-dono," he said, bowing and turning to leave. Misao blinked, her mind swarming with questions about what Kenshin would do concerning his son. She came to her answer and stood, following the reasoning she had followed all her life: that if one pursued with determination, one would eventually achieve their answers.

xXx

_A small smile crept across Kaoru's features as she looked upon Ai's sleeping form. The little girl - she had just turned one a month ago, along with her brother - had awakened her parents with miserable sobs only hours earlier, and Kaoru had taken it upon herself to calm her down. Kenshin had taken on a job in the police force a few years before Kenji had been born (he did not work on the same branch Saitou had worked on, but instead trained the new recruits in very basic manners of defense and offense with an assortment of items). Despite the fact that his new job had provided for a good deal of luxuries Kaoru had been unable to deal with on her own, Kenshin often returned home late. There were a few rare nights when the Chief would request a special favor that required someone of Kenshin's skill, both mentally and physically, and those were when he came home particularly late._

_Kaoru had been jolted from her empty sleep by Ai's cries. Shinta was still blissfully asleep; only hunger could wake this child, it seemed. Another slight smile tugged on her lips. But as she was reminded of Ai again, it vanished. Her daughter's health had worried Megumi and Genzai greatly upon her birth. Megumi had told her, very gently, that were Ai to catch some sort of infection, her battle through it would be much more difficult than that of an average child. Were her sicknesses to get any worse, she had a good chance of dying. Kaoru shuddered. She didn't like to think of such possibilities. _

_She could tell that she was becoming overprotective of the baby, but she couldn't help it. Waking up crying was terribly normal for children - Kenji had done it a number of times, and it had been more of an annoyance than an alarming thing - but Kaoru couldn't deny the fear thundering through her when she jumped from the futon and looked to the other end, where the babies were currently sleeping. Unlike Ai, Shinta was the picture of health. He was working with a quick walk now, building up his leg muscles until he could run. Ai was barely tottering along. It seemed that all the strength had fled her body. _

_A slight gasp escaped Kaoru as calloused, familiar hands met her shoulders and massaged them comfortingly, followed by her husband's voice: __"How is she?"_

_"It's nothing," she said, false cheer tainting her voice, "she just woke up. Remember when Kenji used to do it?" She forced a smile. "Shinta-chan... he doesn't do it at all."_

_"He's just like you, in that aspect," Kenshin murmured, and Kaoru felt her smile border the reality of emotion. She reached a hand up to Kenshin's, using her free one to lightly caress their daughter's cheek. Kenshin was silent, observing her. "She's already got your hair."_

_"And your eyes," she murmured. Ai's eyes had gone from a deep, common baby-shade of blue to a light purple over the past year. Kaoru found herself rejoicing when she saw those beautiful violet orbs, the mirror of the father's, looking at her innocently. "But Shinta," she glanced over to the second Himura son. His thin, baby-hair was already becoming a dark shade of red, "he's got your hair."_

_"Kenji has your eyes," he countered, a slight smile playing across his face. Kaoru smiled in return. How often had they spoken about this? Dividing the traits of their three precious, beautiful children amongst them... she loved such moments. It reminded her of the fact that she had given a part of herself to create each of these living beings. She hoped Kenshin felt the same way._

_"Where did he get the hair, though?" she said, grinning. "My father and mother both had black hair, and I don't remember my grandparents' original shade..." She felt her smile falter just slightly. When Kenji had been born, the still-suspicious members of society had insisted the father was not Kenshin. She had taken such behavior before - no one had thought it proper when she had taken Kenshin in in the first place, followed closely by Yahiko and Sano - and she was prepared to take it now. She had only ever been with Kenshin. And he had fathered no children but theirs. This fact was soon supported as Kenji grew, his baby-features vanishing as they were replaced by those of a very miniature Kenshin. Kenji's hair was brown, and it would always be that way, but everything else belonged to his parents. _

_"My father may have had brown hair," Kenshin murmured, as if delving deep into his mind in an attempt to find buried memories. "I know my mother had red hair." This nostalgic tone of voice caused Kaoru to fidget uncomfortably; she had never heard much about his past, and when he strove to find such painful memories, she felt responsible. Kenshin caught this sad look and pulled her into his embrace, burying his face in the crook of her neck. "My only memories of loved ones are those that cause me happiness, Kaoru."_

_It was then that Kaoru realized what could happen to their only daughter, one of their three beloved children. She could not picture Shinta sleeping without a second futon next to his, accompanied by his sister. She wanted to see those violet eyes deepen, as they promised they would. She wanted to see her daughter play with a paper balloon, to watch her attempting to pretty herself up for a boy that had caught her fancy. She wanted to see Ai meet her fated soul mate and get married. The thought of losing her child before she could fully experience life was agonizing. Kaoru buried her face into the cloth of Kenshin's sleeping yukata, biting back a sob. She hated crying in front of anyone. But the possibilities were just too great, too frightening. She could not help the tears that slid down her cheeks, could not help the fact that Kenshin, as he always did, noticed this. _

_His only reply was to tighten his embrace around her, an action she mentally thanked him for and returned wholeheartedly. _

Kaoru awoke to find herself crying.

She sighed at her own inability to suppress such memories and shifted slightly to wipe her tears away; she found herself unable, but only because it would wake Kenshin, who had embraced her sometime during their slumber. Something akin to another sigh escaped her lips, but she did not really complain. Instead of attempting to escape without being noticed, she regretfully placed her free hand on his cheek, tracing the place where the cross-scar had once shown vividly. What remained was a white-pink remainder, something one could only find if they knew where to look. Kaoru had memorized this feature first and foremost. Upon sensing the familiar touch, one brought on by an awakened human, Kenshin's eyes flickered open. Kaoru smiled at him.

"Sorry," she murmured, "but, um..." The smile only grew as she felt a chuckle coming on. "You would've woken up, either way."

"You want to get up?" he questioned, eyes confused. Kaoru nodded.

"Nature calls," she joked as she stood, placing the covers over her empty spot. "I'll be right back." Her husband seemed satisfied with that.

It was when Kaoru was coming back from the bathroom that she saw it; her eyes widened as she caught site of two small figures out in the yard of the Aoi-ya. Her hand instinctively twitched, eager for a bokken to protect her, but she then realized that these people had no malicious intentions. She found herself grinning broadly as a familiar cry rang out though the yard repeatedly. Each one was followed by silent words, scolding and teaching. Rei was teaching Shinta how to properly spar. Fighting had never been in the boy's interests - he had preferred rebelling in his own way to blow off steam - and Kaoru had often found herself worrying over him. She sat down on the porch, content to watch this banter until she was caught.

"...Ouch! You can't possibly be any more gentle?"

Rei grinned broadly. "But this is more fun. Plus, you have some potential, but you just haven't tried developing it. You could be fairly decent." This statement was followed by a sarcastic snort from Shinta, but he did not deny it. Kaoru bit back a laugh. She watched as Rei continued to pelt her son; she had long since stopped worrying about him when he took this kind of pain. Oh, she worried about him - she was often told to back off, to stop nagging when she insisted on packing an extra gi, when she lingered over a bitter word a little too long - but she knew that Rei would never permanently hurt him.

Kaoru squinted slightly, eager to catch site of what exactly they were doing. Rei and Shinta stood near a koi pond, each in a ready position. She mentally noted that Shinta's was a little off, but that was to be expected from an amateur. Kaoru found herself wishing that she had insisted upon training, but she forced the notion down. If Shinta didn't want to fight, he didn't have to. She would try not to pressure him.

Kaoru was shaken from her thoughts as Rei jumped forward swiftly, her hand easily making contact with Shinta's arm. She kept a firm hold on him and the boy retaliated with a swift blow to her arm with the other hand. Kaoru inhaled slightly as the opening came into view, and Rei took advantage of it; her free hand came crashing into his face, propelling him backwards. The young Himura, instead of complaining as he had done before, picked himself up and hurled himself at the girl carelessly. This action was rewarded as Rei easily sidestepped his charge and tripped him, grabbing the collar of his gi before he could make contact with the earth a second time.

Then - surprisingly - Shinta's elbow came up, its goal to smash into Rei's ribs. The young girl's eyes widened as she swiftly lifted a hand. She failed to completely catch the arm, but succeeded in lessening the blow a good deal. She released Shinta and grinned proudly at him.

"That's good!" she laughed, jumping to the side as Shinta charged again. "That--" She stopped suddenly, her smile vanishing and her hand grabbing Shinta's arm in a fluid movement, the other going to his mouth to smother his cries. For a moment, Kaoru thought she had been found out, but that did not seem to be it. Shinta protested only for a moment; upon seeing Rei's serious features, he fell silent. He knew when something was wrong.

"I think we should go back inside, Shinta," Rei said simply, leading him away from the koi pond. Kaoru was about to up and leave - she didn't care if she was seen, as long as she escaped the "punishment" she would be delt - but she stopped as Rei instantly stiffened, her eyes narrowing as she shoved the boy forward and whirled about, her feet shifting her weight to the side as something flew by. Impossibly, Kaoru heard a wounded hiss, but as she was about to move forward she was stopped by more noise. A voice - one indistinct, so she could not make out the words - snarled at the young girl and Kaoru saw the burly figure of a man run forward. In comparison to Rei, he looked frighteningly large, but Kaoru had long since learned not to judge the competition on size. Watching Kenshin fight had done that to her.

But Kaoru found her fears mounting as the young man struck the child brutally on the cheek, sending her backwards. Her eyes widened as she saw the easy logic in the fight: Rei was small and fast, but her attacker had the necessary strength. Kaoru herself didn't have a bokken, but she couldn't stand the feeling of helplessness that overcame her as she watched Rei dart around, striking where she could and hardly leaving a mark. Kaoru glanced around and, finding a broom propped up against one of the corner walls, pulled the handle from the tool.

"Rei-chan!" she cried as she neared them, "duck!" And like a trained animal, the young ninja ducked. Kaoru's headless broom connected with the larger man's skull, forcing an agonized cry from him. Despite herself, the Himura wife was proud of her easy connection. But before she allowed herself to get cocky, she grabbed the young ninja's shirt-collar and pulled her away as she danced from their attacker's reach. Kaoru whirled around to address her son. "Shinta, go inside and get your father!"

"But this guy's small pota--"

"Just _do it!_" Kaoru ordered. "What if there are more of them?" To this, Shinta nodded stiffly and turned, fighting his instinct to rush to his mother's aid, and vanished into the Aoi-ya. Kaoru exhaled lightly. She hadn't wanted her son, who had barely finished his first lesson, to be hurt.

Her relief, however, cost her; a blow to the side of her face sent her backwards. Kaoru bit her lip in an attempt to stifle the pained cry and narrowed her eyes angrily, jumping to her feet. As Shinta said, this man was hardly skilled. She scolded herself for having been so easy to strike in the first place. Had this man been anywhere near as skilled as some of the people she had fought before - people like Kamatari, for instance - she would have been dead. As she thought of this, Kaoru automatically blocked the rain of blows that fell upon her. She could already feel her muscles returning to a routine manner, something that could never be forgotten. But still, each blow was tough on her broom handle. She couldn't hope to keep this up forever. Kaoru ducked as the massive man's fist swung towards her head, feeling the air above her rush as she dove in and slammed the broom into his stomach. Before she was allowed to wonder if he had endured her hit, she abandoned the basic hold of a bokken and let her left hand travel to the front of the broom. Sliding her right up to the middle of the makeshift weapon, she whirled the bottom upwards. The large man's howl was cut off as his jaw was slammed shut, propelling him backwards. Kaoru watched her opponent for a moment, then sighed. He was unconscious.

"Rei-chan?" she murmured, suddenly wondering where the child had gone during her fight. Kaoru gasped upon catching site of the girl; she was, as Kaoru had suggested earlier, fighting a back-up. This one was quite the opposite. He was thin, wiry, and flexible. It was quite obvious that he was the stronger of the two, but before Kaoru was about to run to the young ninja's aid, Rei had easily defeated him. As she approached, Rei massaged her wrist tenderly; her body had been the only weapon available to her, and she had suffered the consequences. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, thank you," she murmured, then grinned. "You're quite impressive, Kaoru-san. Now I see where Shinta gets it."

Kaoru smiled placidly. "Mostly from Kenshin." She drew herself up to her full height, completely prepared to be bombarded with questions from her spouse. He was always like that; too protective, yet endearing at the same time. The thought brought a tiny smile to her lips. Her smile vanished as she glanced back at her victim. "Why did they attack us, though? And if this is an organized effort, these thugs weren't much..."

"My guess," Rei murmured, "is that whoever sent these men is gauging us--" But before she was allowed to continue, she stiffened. A curse filtered through her lips before she brought her hands up, shakily, and attempted to push Kaoru away. It was only when the latter caught site of a needle in her neck - a needle gleaming with blood - that Kaoru realized what was happening. Rei's eyes clouded over and she fell back. The sound of her body shattering the water of the koi pond was deafening, and before Kaoru could scream for help, she too fell to her knees. A burning pain shot through the crook of her neck, and she reached a hand up to it sluggishly; her eyes widened just briefly before closing. As darkness enveloped her, Kaoru could have sworn she heard a wounded, horrific cry.

_to be continued..._

_A/N: Hmm, I'm kind of treading a fine line here, aren't I? Mana and Yousaku... bet it won't rest too well with some of you, but I can't help it. I needed to give Mana more character, something to wonder at. Having her be a blank, grinning slate is just no fun. :( _

_I really need to get moving with Kenji's side of the story, though. Nothing is really happening, and I want to get Kohaku's brother and stuff in there... action scenes are so fun, and I only got to write one. -weep- And I'm sorry for any overused scenes. I know I keep going back to the Kenji-looks-like-a-female-so-let's-poke-fun-at-him joke, but it's just too tempting to resist from time to time. _

_And, despite all the stuff I say, I'm still getting negative vibes from you readers... Oo;_

_Chizuru's songs are common Japanese children songs. The frog one, Kaeru no Uta Ga, is what she said: about frogs. The "e gero" is a sound effect used for the frog's singing, but another meaning for it can be, "to puke". It's a bad Japanese pun I used, so you all probably think it's dumb. The other one, "Zou-san", is the one about elephants. The last one, "Yubi Kiri", is a song sang when one is making a promise. I just thought the translation was so cool, so I had to add it. _

_Sorry for another terribly boring chapter. D:_


	13. Lose and Gain

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin.**

As soon as the sounds of battle reached his ears, his eyes had snapped open and he had been on his feet, charging towards the door. He did not need to see Shinta's frightened eyes, did not need to see his own horror reflected in them. As his son hurriedly attempted to explain the situation to him, Kenshin rushed by. Kaoru's absence had told him enough. As the former rurouni ran through the halls of the Aoi-ya, using the sounds from outside as his compass, he felt his heart slamming relentlessly through his chest.

_'Kaoru...'_

The sounds of battle, of an unknown enemy howling out in pain, caused him to quicken his step. Kenshin knew that Kaoru was completely capable of handling a better-than-average fighter, but he wasn't going to allow her the chance to be hurt. He would take her brief anger later, her indignance for being denied the chance to defend herself. But the day she had married him had been the day she had unknowingly allowed his absolute devotion. With such a thing came the protection he had always given her, albeit at a much more intense level. Kenshin's thoughts were cut off as a sound reached his ears, this one having the ability to be both relieving and horrifying.

The sound of absolute silence. Kenshin's ears rang with the lack of grunts, the absence of Kaoru's familiar cries as she attacked an opponent with her bokken.

_'Kaoru!'_

And then he was outside, staring out towards the vast expanse of yard the Aoi-ya kept out back. Before him were two slim figures and behind them were others, but judging from their position and lack of movement, both had been knocked out. Kenshin immediately picked out the familiar half-pony-tail on Kaoru's head and a small sigh escaped him. She was all right...

And then Rei, the other figure standing next to Kaoru, shoved the latter away. Kenshin's eyes widened as his hand instinctively twitched for something to fight with. He needed to protect--

But it was too late. Rei had fallen back into the koi pond, her body breaking the top of the water with an ear-shattering crash. For a moment, Kenshin thought he could catch a glimmer of something on the side of her neck, but it vanished as the moonbeam it had been under shifted. He took a few steps forward - since when had his godlike speed failed him, he wondered? - and his mouth formed Kaoru's name. He needed to make her alert of the situation, to protect her and to save the Shinomori child. How long could an unconscious figure stay under water? He didn't like to think about what would happen to Rei. But before he could speak, he froze; Kaoru reached a shaky hand up to her neck, and as her fingers brushed against the cold metal shining on her neck, she, too, stiffened. She fell to her knees and collapsed on her face.

The sound that should have been Kaoru's name transformed into an unholy cry as he ran forward. Before Kenshin could remember having crossed the yard, he was pillowing Kaoru's head in his lap, his hand trembling as it touched the needle. This was not right, it was not happening... it was too bloody to have been sent to knock her out. Kenshin's eyes widened greatly as he pulled his hand away, his fingertips bloodied. And there was suddenly a splash - he whirled around, his eyes narrowed dangerously and his movements suggesting that a bit of the long-forgotten Hitokiri was emerging - but he stopped as soon as Shinta gasped lightly. It was his son that had jumped into the pond and had pulled Rei to safety. Kenshin mentally shook himself. Kaoru could breathe, and with that advantage, she would be okay... for now. Rei had still been vulnerable. But as he searched his son's eyes for any hatred that could be directed at him, he found none; Shinta was merely worried for both his friend as his mother. As he dragged the young ninja to the shore and gently placed her on the edge, he sighed. He then pulled himself from the water, wringing out his wet-to-the-knee hakama. Shinta's eyes traveled to Kaoru, and as he caught site of the blood, they too widened.

"Dad, she's--"

"Megumi-dono," he hissed urgently, "is in the room next to Sano's. Hurry." And before he could expect a reply, Shinta was running towards the Aoi-ya. Kenshin looked back down to Kaoru and his throat tightened. His hand traveled up to her temple, and he ran his fingers through his hair briefly; her head instinctively rolled back, and something akin to a moan escaped her. His heart skipped a beat. She was alive, and if her breathing indicated anything - strong, incessant - she would be alive for quite a while.

"How heart-warming."

Kenshin whirled around to see, in the trees above the Aoi-ya's surrounding walls, a man balancing nimbly on a branch. He glared, but unable to leave Kaoru, remained where he was. As soon as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he picked out as many details as he could; upon identifying their attacker, he gasped. Images from the train immediately flashed into his mind, nagging and reminding him how he had ultimately failed in protecting Kaoru that time.

Light hair...

"As much as I'd like to have finished your wife, those aren't my orders. I merely present a challenge..."

Green eyes...

"That, and my employer wanted to gauge the least of your strength."

And that sickening smile, one that reminded him so much of Sojirou's...

"...You," he finally murmured. He had no name to give the boy. He had no way to express his confusion, his rage, with words. His vision flickered for a moment - he wondered briefly if his eye color had changed, as it had once done - and his glare strengthened. His obvious loathing for Kaoru's attacker only seemed to better the boy's mood, for the smile widened considerably. There was a flash of cruel malice in his eyes before he spoke.

"That red-haired boy... your son?" When Kenshin said nothing, he continued almost blissfully. "He looks just like you. Except for his eyes... they belong to his mother." And then he looked down to Kaoru, who's breathing was just beginning to stagger. "I hope your doctor is competent."

"Why are you doing this?" Kenshin could barely keep the rage from tainting his voice, from causing his mind to run wild while his body jumped to action. He wanted more than anything to slam his sakabatou across the boy's head, but both the fact that he was missing his weapon and the fact that Kaoru's safety was more important prevented him from doing so.

"You have a relation," the boy said, each word dripping with enjoyment and cruelty, "under our employment." To this, Kenshin's glare vanished; he stared at the boy with wide eyes, unable to comprehend-- then he understood. Kenji.

"My son," he hissed, his eyes flickering briefly before settling to their rare shade of gold. To this, their attacker's smile merely widened. Kenshin found himself remembering Sojirou more and more clearly. It very nearly sickened him. He had so many questions, so many accusations - most were at the young man in front of him, but some where reluctantly pointing towards his eldest son - but he could only voice one, "What have you done with him?"

"Nothing that he hasn't consented to," came the smooth reply, to which Kenshin's anger towards his son grew just slightly. He had to reason with himself, to calm the rage slowly growing towards Kenji. There was more to this, he needed to speak with him... And as the mangled thoughts ran through his mind, he found himself yet again inarticulate. His tongue seemed to move with a will of its own, bypassing all the details for the main questions.

"What has he done?"

"He's been watching over a project of ours for some time, now," he replied, then stopped and watched Kenshin for a moment. The former rurouni wondered if the boy was merely examining him wordlessly, searching for the obvious details that pointed out the Battousai of the Bakamatsu. Just as he opened his mouth to interject, however, the light-haired youth continued. "Your son is very much like you, too. He has your eyes." Another disgusting grin. "Very _interesting _eyes."

_'My eyes.' _Kenshin chanced a look into the koi pond, which had long since returned to its glassy look, and forced himself not to gasp. His eyes were currently their feral gold color, one he had never hoped to look upon again. The thought of Kenji with such eyes - with such ability, such promise for killing - disturbed him. His son was too confident, too knowledgeable of his obvious, yet untrained, strength. As he glanced back to the boy, he saw what he expected: the mask of happiness, unmarred yet completely empty. It burrowed through his own gaze, accusing him of how he had, upon helping to create his son, passed a monster on to Kenji. It was a monster that would willingly destroy, and with a host such as Kenji, it would find that goal easily accomplished.

The light-haired boy seemed to read Kenshin's thoughts, for he broke the silence with a final, cryptic message, "One might say you don't trust your son enough, Himura-san. But you probably know the potential for his strength, and how it could be so easily changed to a darker purpose." The sound of the shoji door sliding open from the other side of the yard distracted Kenshin briefly; Megumi came running out, clad in naught but her sleeping yukata. Sano, Shinta, Misao, and Aoshi followed. Then, realizing that he had been left vulnerable for a few precious seconds, Kenshin looked back to the trees. The boy was gone.

"Himura! Kaoru-sa-- oh, God. _Rei!_" With a wounded cry, Misao ran forward, dropping to her knees and cradling her daughter's head in her lap. When she looked up to Megumi for comforting words, her eyes were glassy with tears. Kenshin felt his throat tighten painfully. Megumi, immediately interpreting the message, dropped down to her knees and felt for a pulse, all the while carefully avoiding contact with the needles. For a few agonizing moments, she was silent. Then she nodded to Misao encouragingly.

"She'll be fine, Misao-chan," she murmured, "we just need to get these needles-- _don't_!" Misao, who had reached reluctantly for said weapons, drew back her hand instantly. "Pulling them out at the wrong angles could damage her throat permanently! These needles were aimed for exact points." She looked over to Kenshin, and her eyes widened at Kaoru's considerably worse condition. "Sano!" The gambler was next to her in an instant, "Ken-san will bring Kaoru-chan into their room - take care not to move the needles, Ken-san - and you will get the bandages. I showed you them earlier, remember?" Sano nodded mutely and Kenshin tucked his arms under Kaoru, lifting her gently. Megumi continued to rattle off orders with leadership skills she had often prided herself for.

As Sano and Kenshin entered the Himura's room and the latter set his wife down on the futon, Sano spoke. The rage in his tone did not come close to measuring up to the anger they both felt.

"Who the hell would attack Jou-chan?!" he hissed, gesturing to Kaoru, who still created quite a morbid picture. Kenshin wanted more than anything to reach down and remove the needles, but he knew a false move could mean trouble for his wife. His hands twitched, eager to help, but he restrained himself. He could not, however, suppress the light growl in the back of his throat as Sano continued to rage on. "Is this someone from your past, Kenshin?" Said man shook his head, infuriating the fighter all the more. "Shit! It's bad enough when freaks from your past attack, but it's worse when we don't know why the hell they're doing it at all!"

"He said something about a challenge, Sano," Kenshin murmured, attempting without success to keep his eyes from Kaoru. "He said he was gauging them."

"He sent in those... those _pawns _to see how well Jou-chan and the kid could fight?" The confusion in his voice only added to his frustration. Kenshin merely nodded, briefly wondering if said pawns had been properly tied and gagged. But the fact that Aoshi and Misao were outside was assurance enough. Catching thugs was more than a hobby for the both of them. "Did he say anything else?"

"He... he said something about Kenji," Kenshin breathed, unsure of how to feel about his son. Before Sano could question him, he continued, "About Kenji being under their employment."

"What the hell--"

"_Sano,_" Kenshin hissed lowly, glancing over to Kaoru, "I don't want you to say any more about this until I've found out about it for myself. I'll be leaving to see Hiko for a few days - Misao said Kenji was curious about his whereabouts, so he may have gone to see Master - and while I'm gone, I want you to watch over my family."

Sano grinned. "What are friends for, anyway? Don't worry. The weasel and Aoshi will be here, too."

"Thank you, Sano," Kenshin murmured, then fell silent as Megumi came in. Neither had to speak as the doctor, whose hands were slightly bloodied from quickly yet accurately removing the needles from Rei, set to work on Kaoru. Kenshin's eyes traveled to his wife's face, which suddenly looked painfully white. Megumi made no uncertain moves - everything she did was precise, aimed towards Kaoru's well-being - but he could not help looking away when the doctor pulled out the last of the needles, bearing the bloody holes. Sano swore under his breath. Megumi merely continued, her eyes narrowing as she bandaged Kaoru's neck, abandoning that chore every once in a while in favor of finding a pulse. After completing her job, Megumi sat back, sighing.

"Well, it's official," she murmured, "whoever attacked Kaoru was either a master doctor or very, very close to killing her." She wiped her forehead, which was already glistening with sweat. "I'm guessing the former, because Rei-chan's condition was much better than Kaoru's."

"I will be leaving to find Master, Megumi-dono," Kenshin said clearly, to which the doctor's eyes widened just slightly. "Your medical assistance in my absence would be greatly appreciated." Megumi tossed a strand of long hair over her shoulder and, in a manner very much like Sano, grinned.

"You can always count on me, Ken-san. I'm much more helpful than your resident bum." The snide remark was followed by an irritated remark with Sano. Kenshin allowed himself the freedom to smile, but upon looking back at Kaoru, it vanished. Two attacks with the same boy involved couldn't be a coincidence. Somebody was after them.

And whoever that was had connections to Kenji.

xXx

"Ooooh... _damn..._"

Kenji sighed and bit down on the urge to reprimand Chizuru for the amount of alcohol she had consumed the night before. It was, when he looked at the entire situation, all her fault. She had no one to blame for her headaches, save for herself. In a sadistic way, Kenji enjoyed watching her roll about on her futon, groaning as she massaged her head. The only thing Kenji despaired over was the fact that he couldn't gloat. Chizuru would only make things difficult.

"Why didn't you stop me, Kenji?!" she demanded, rolling so she could face him. Said Himura blinked innocently, infuriating her all the more without having to use words. "I feel like I've been hit like a ton of bricks!"

"Shouting will only increase your headache, Chizuru-ne," Mana said soothingly, to which Chizuru inhaled deeply in an attempt to calm herself. "Just rest some more. There's really nothing more you can do." Kenji watched as Mana tucked her sister in, a motherly air about her. He suddenly wondered about their mother. Had Mana inherited her skills for cooking? Had their mother even bothered to teach them anything? He had always assumed that the two were orphans, which still seemed very likely. If their father had been as cruel as Chizuru had let on, he could only guess that the other parent had been killed by him. Kenji felt a twinge of pity; how often had he inwardly complained about his own family, despite having one at all? Nearly everyone he knew was, ironically, an orphan. His father had lost his parents at a very young age. Kaoru had lost her mother as a child, and her father a few years after in a war. Yahiko and Tsubame had no parents; Yahiko had lost his father to war and his mother to disease, and Tsubame had never spoken of her parents. But what was one to assume, when she had been found with the Yakuza? Then there was Megumi and Sano. Megumi, like many others, had lost her family on the battlefield. But hers had died in an attempt to save lives, not to take them. And Sano? Kenji wasn't quite sure. He could vaguely remember a young boy with rosy cheeks showing up on the dojo's doorstep with an older sister and father in tow. He had worn the same sign Sano wore - the sign stating "aku", or "evil" - and the family had claimed to know him. But because the fighter was absent, there was no one to question. And now there was Chizuru and Mana, twin sisters who had lived with a cruel father and a mother who was (for all he knew) absent.

It then struck Kenji how lucky he should have felt. He had an enormous, close-knit family. Granted, few of his relations outside the house were biologically related, but that didn't seem to matter. He had been sheltered and protected all his life, and yet he had complained. The thought added to Kenji's guilty conscience.

"What happened to your mother?"

He shouldn't have asked; he knew as soon as he spoke that the topic was uncomfortable, one to be avoided at all costs. Yet Kenji did not take back his words. He looked to Chizuru, who had suddenly fallen silent. Her fingers were buried into the material of the blankets, her knuckles white. Her eyes were cast downwards, her lips tight. Kenji felt another stab of guilt, but he shoved it aside, looking instead to Mana for answers. She was just as silent as the other. Finally, he summoned the courage to guess.

"Dead, then," he said mildly, looking out the window. He didn't want to meet Chizuru's furious blue eyes, or Mana's sad face. And his tongue wouldn't stop producing foul, meaningless words. "I know a lot of people who've lost their parents. I mean, mine are fine and everything, but..." He trailed off. An uncomfortable silence descended upon the three, and just as the young Himura was about to speak, Chizuru pulled the blankets over her head.

"Sorry, Kenji," she murmured sleepily. "I'm tired. I think I'll stay inside today." Before he could protest, Mana nodded, siding with her sister.

"I think that would be best," she said. "Kenji, when is your next lesson with Seijuro-san? If you have nothing else to do, you could find him and train a bit."

"He lives hours away," Kenji began, feeling that he was being thrown out, in a sense. He hated being unable to understand, unable to comprehend why they were suddenly so cold towards him. All he had done was asked a question, an innocent, simple question. He was not to be judged for what happened to their mother. But as he looked to Mana for an explanation, he only met sincere, comforting eyes... and resigned himself to the task. If he hurried, he would reach Hiko's house before noon. He knew the way this time, and he had no guests to slow him down. Kenji stood stiffly and grabbed the sakabatou, tying the weapon to his waist and departing. Mana murmured a polite goodbye, to which Kenji ignored her. Chizuru was still silent, irritating him beyond comprehension. Didn't she care enough to say goodbye? Was his presence so horrid that she could only come out once he was gone?

So immersed was he in his angry thoughts that Kenji neglected to be watchful for police officers, who would no-doubt be wary of his sword. True, many people wore fake swords as a tribute to the festival, but an experienced swordsman would be able to identify his real blade. And such a thing happened; Kenji blinked in surprise as the cry of a noticeably older man met his ears. He turned to see the man running towards him, panting with exertion. He could have scoffed. But he instead took his own advice and vanished into the maze-like alleys of Kyoto. The cries were soon out of range to be of any danger, and with the peace came the troublesome thoughts of Chizuru. Her silence brought forth a petty agitation that refused to vanish. The young Himura immediately thought of her downsides, her violence and rashness, in an attempt to push himself back into hating her. It made things so much easier.

And yet, the only thing he could bring to mind was that he must have hurt her terribly by asking such an insensitive question.

xXx

Mana was silent for a moment, staring out into the city of Kyoto. She then turned to her sister, a light smile decorating her features prettily. Chizuru could not help but feel ugly in comparison to her, but she pushed the thought aside in favor of more serious issues. Mana slowly proceeded to strip from her sleeping yukata and unfold her day-to-day kimono, her smile failing to abandon her features. Chizuru felt her throat tighten; she knew what was coming, and she didn't want to talk about it. It came nonetheless.

"Today is the day," her sister said, prying the sheets from her fingers and leaning her forehead against the other. "Akiro-san, Kohaku-san... let's forget about them for a while. We need to go visit her."

Chizuru bit her lip, well aware of how the color had left her face, and nodded stiffly.

xXx

Kaoru couldn't remember being in a worse mood.

It had all started with the attack last night - the attack in which she had been struck by needles, causing her to lose consciousness and, if everyone's fretting meant anything, almost her life - when she had allowed herself to be struck. Her pride had been wounded above all. She had been told (quite forcibly) by Megumi that if she neglected her bandages, she would have much more to worry about than a few needle-holes. Having never been one to back down - especially against Megumi - Kaoru had resorted to the childish personality she had long-since abandoned and clashed verbally with the older woman. Such impulsive actions had led to losing her voice by over-using her damaged throat. The woman swore under her breath, mentally defending herself as guilt bombarded her.

In a desperate attempt to escape the accusatory looks of her peers, Kaoru had excused herself; false errands were her savior in the situation. Without a companion or a certain purpose to her leisurely stroll, she found herself drifting in a vaguely familiar direction. Kaoru did not know the exact location she was heading towards until she reached the hauntingly reminding shrine. Beyond the entrance of the sacred place was a forest of grave markers. This was Tomoe's graveyard.

Kaoru took a shaky step towards the graveyard, then two steps back. She had no business here. She was only welcome when she was with Kenshin, someone who actually had good cause to visit such a place. Tomoe had belonged to her husband, and he to her. Kaoru felt that she had no business intruding on such a sacred, spiritual bond. Something with the power to transcend death shouldn't have been meddled with. Upon thinking of this, a rueful smile curled Kaoru's lips; it had taken far too long for her to realize this. Her feelings for Tomoe had, in the beginning, been something of a mess. She had been miserable for the woman, and yet she had admired her. How could she not? It had not been Tomoe's serene presence - in sharp contrast to popular belief - that had left her feeling outmatched. It had been the fact that she could love someone so infinitely, so powerfully she would be willing to sacrifice her life for that person, that had left Kaoru feeling somewhat pathetic. After seeing the extent of Kenshin's remaining feelings for Tomoe, Kaoru had indeed been jealous. She was not above such petty feelings.

And yet, during the weeks she had spent in Yukishiro Enishi's care, she had felt strength and conviction power her mind and heart. In sharp contrast to the uneasiness she had expected upon Kenshin's failure to arrive quickly, Kaoru had felt her spirit grow in resolve. It seemed insane at times, but she could not deny that during the lonely hours she had spent at the mansion, she had felt as if _someone _was there, watching and protecting her. When Enishi had tried to strangle her, it had been Tomoe who had delivered her. And when Kenshin had been shot - her stomach twisted slightly at the thought - Kaoru's human-barrier had been powered by Tomoe's determination as well as her own.

For loving Kenshin, for turning him into the man he was now... she could never hate Tomoe for that. She would never be able to thank her enough.

The feeling of hard, cold stone under her fingers brought Kaoru out of her reverie; she stared at the gravestone before her. Unmarked. Unnamed. But such things did not tarnish the value of the person within in the least. Kaoru dropped to her knees, glad that she had worn a dark color in case of mud, and pressed her hands together. She wasn't sure how long she intended on praying. She only knew that the woman beneath the soil deserved the time.

"...we haven't been here for some time..."

Kaoru blinked, temporarily startled from her reverie. Off to the side stood two girls - in their late teens, most likely - with a bucket and flowers in hand. Kaoru closed her eyes again in an attempt to shut off the sight of them, but she couldn't help her curiosity (for whatever reason) and allowed herself a peek.

Both girls had dark, brown hair and blue eyes. Siblings? Very likely. One, slightly taller and just a bit more robust (but in no way fat), was kneeling in front of a grave with her hands pressed together. From this girl came an aura of liveliness that Kaoru immediately felt endeared to. The other was in no way dreary, but her energy seemed slightly dulled; as if she had suffered in some way and could never really erase the fact. Both wore solemn masks as they prayed. Reminded of her purpose and feeling a slight pang of guilt, Kaoru turned back to Tomoe's grave and delved deep into her own thoughts. For many a long moment, the three sat in silence, each respecting the other's need to pray. Finally, Kaoru offered Tomoe a confident smile and stood, dusting off her knees. She wished she had flowers; Tomoe deserved that, at least. She glanced over to the girls on the side and, oddly enough, they had also just finished. The livelier of the two caught site of Kaoru, and before said woman could look away sheepishly, she noticed her lack of flowers. A pale hand dove into the bucket and came out with half the flowers she carried. The young woman walked forward, hesitantly offering the gift. Her sister followed silently.

"For your friend," she said, glancing towards the unmarked grave apprehensively. Kaoru made to protest, but the earnest look in the young woman's eyes forestalled such actions. She took the flowers with a grateful nod and bowed in silent thanks. The young woman's lips parted, but no words came out; she seemed hesitant to question her, but she finally allowed herself the freedom to do so. "Um... who is it?"

"My... my husband's first wife," Kaoru murmured, failing to pause and question herself as to why she was giving away such personal information. Pity flickered across the young woman's face.

"I wish I were more like you," she murmured, looking at the grave. "I wouldn't have been able to visit her. Do you... know her name, by chance?"

"Yukishiro Tomoe," Kaoru offered, smiling peacefully at said resting place. Something else flickered across the young woman's eyes, but she said nothing, allowing the Himura wife to continue, "She was the best kind of wife for my husband. I'm lucky if I can give him half of what she has."

"...You underestimate yourself, ma--" she stopped suddenly, looking down. "I'm sorry for prying so much, but I don't know your name..."

"Ah," Kaoru grinned broadly in an attempt to banish the girl's fears. "Himura Kaoru. It's very nice to meet you." She bowed politely. The girl returned the gesture.

"Raikoji Chizuru," she returned, a smile setting her face aglow. Kaoru felt an instant liking for this girl. "And this is my sister, Mana."

"Pleased to meet you," Mana said, bowing. Something about the way this girl bore herself suggested a great amount of grace, in contrast to her sister, who carried herself very ordinarily. Kaoru responded by bowing again. She and Mana exchanged pleasant, conversational words for a moment, and then Chizuru spoke. Something was obviously making her curious.

"I'm sorry for prying again, but I... well, would you tell me a bit about Yukishiro-san?" she glanced toward the grave again. "You seem very close to her."

Kaoru pushed aside the warning signals telling her not to pry and told the girl the vague details about Tomoe - about how she had fallen in love with Kenshin, but how certain events had torn them apart and resulted in her tragic, untimely death. She didn't want to disclose anything more personal than that, and Chizuru seemed content with the information she was given. She inclined her head in an apologetic gesture. "Again, I'm sorry if I'm prying too much..."

"It doesn't matter," Kaoru said reassuringly. Then she was the one to feel curious. "Who were you visiting?" As soon as she asked, an uncomfortable silence fell upon the sisters; Kaoru wished she hadn't asked, but she did not take back the question. And just as soon as the void-like quiet had fallen, it was driven off; a smile played at Chizuru's lips, although nowhere near as genuine as the one she offered earlier.

"Our mother," she said. Kaoru felt guilt twist her stomach, and she was about to apologize, but Chizuru waved a hand, her false smile widening. "You don't need to be sorry. We get that a lot, don't we, Mana-ne?"

"We do," Mana agreed. "But your kind thoughts are appreciated." Kaoru was about to open her mouth and argue, to insist that she was sorry for bringing back painful memories, but Chizuru left no time for such words. She turned, and with her sister obediently following, walked briskly towards the exit. Kaoru bit back an indignant cry as she stumbled forward, eager to follow. Mana protested lightly, glancing back at the older woman. Chizuru didn't seem to notice until her sister broke the link between their hands. She stared at her sister, her blue eyes demanding answers... and finding none. Before Kaoru could intervene, Chizuru bit her lip and turned again.

"I'll be back at the inn later," she said stiffly. Mana murmured her approval and Chizuru left, turning a corner sharply and vanishing. Kaoru felt as if she had just intruded even more, and she hadn't spoken a word. For a moment, both remaining women were silent, both fearing the consequences if they spoke. Then Mana offered an apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry. Our mother is still a bit of a touchy subject," the last sentence carried a hint of sadness in its tone. Kaoru wanted to apologize again, but as she tried to form the words, her throat caught painfully; she winced, much to her chagrin. Mana's eyes widened slightly as she noticed the bandages, which were very difficult to see because of the kimono collar and Kaoru's pale skin. "Are you hurt?"

"Just a little," Kaoru said, grinning in an attempt to drive off the worry they both felt. Another jolt of pain licked up through her neck as she shifted it slightly, and she gasped in agonized surprise. Her hand flew up to her neck before she could halt it, massaging the wounded area gently. Mana looked no less worried than she had earlier; on the contrary, she looked more distressed.

"What happened?" There were no polite excuses for questioning, just an urgent plea. Kaoru blinked, feeling a surge of trust - as she had with Chizuru - and vaguely recited how she was attacked. Mana's eyes widened as she described the part that baffled her the most: that the attacker had used needles, and that each and every one had been placed in a specific place. She paled slightly, her eyes losing whatever shine they had maintained earlier.

"...Mana-chan?" Kaoru questioned, nervous, "Are you all right?" Mana's fingers closed in on the folds of her kimono, her knuckles going white from the pressure she applied. Then her face suddenly relaxed, her eyes closing as a smile masked the worry she had exhibited earlier. Kaoru felt no more reassured than she had been earlier.

"Everything is fine, Himura-san," Mana answered. "I was just wondering... you don't happen to be related to Himura Kenshin, would you?"

Kaoru's eyes widened slightly, surprise catching her off guard. Many people knew the name of the Hitokiri Battousai, but few knew to identify him with Himura Kenshin. Warning signs that Kaoru had long-since abandoned popped up, each questioning this girl's motives. Did she have a grudge against the Battousai? That was the last thing Kenshin needed. And with him temporarily gone, allowing an enemy into the Aoi-ya was asking for disaster. Kaoru was about to turn the young woman down - and dismiss any chances of danger along with her - but the sincerity in Mana's eyes caught her off guard. And just as quickly as the doubtful thoughts had come, so, too, did the reassuring ones. Kaoru was alone and currently as defenseless as she could get. If someone were after the Battousai, wouldn't she be targeted? Why would an enemy so openly place herself under suspicion?

"Yes," she finally murmured, searching the girl's eyes for any sign of malice. She found none. Confidence growing, she continued, "He's my husband." Mana smiled prettily, further banishing Kaoru's worries. The girl could in no way be an enemy... right?

"I would like to meet him, one day," she said wistfully, brushing a hand across her forehead in an attempt to keep her bangs from her eyes. "My mother and father often told me stories about how the great Hitokiri Battousai worked against the Shinsengumi." Upon seeing the surprise in Kaoru's eyes, she continued quickly, "My father worked for the Choshu clan, just like your husband."

"Would you," Kaoru began, acting on impulse, "like to meet my family? Kenshin is out visiting a friend across town" - the facts were tweaked for the sake of precaution - "but he'll be back in a day or two." To this, Mana's eyes widened, hope filling them for a moment. Then she looked a bit unsure, for which reason Kaoru could not pinpoint. Was she worried about her sister? If that were the case, Kaoru could leave a message, or at least the address of the Aoi-ya... But before she could say this, Mana nodded.

"I would love to meet your family, Himura-san," she said politely, bowing. "I may not be able to stay for a few days, but I could come back to visit once in a while." To this, Kaoru nodded in agreement, grabbing Mana's hand and leading her from the graveyard, looking back once to Tomoe's grave and mentally voicing her thanks.

xXx

Chizuru's long stride finally began to slow, signaling that fatigue was finally beginning to catch up with her. The girl turned a corner, vanishing once again into the maze that was Kyoto, and exhaled loudly, sliding down against the wall of a building. One hand went to her face, wiping the bangs from her forehead as the other steadied her against said wall. When she sat, Chizuru pulled her knees up against her head and allowed herself to relax, struggling against the urge to sob. She rubbed her knuckles against her eyes before grabbing herself around the knees, rocking back and forth as she fought against the tightening in her throat.

Why had she reacted so _childishly?_ Why, whenever faced with questions about her mother, could she never be mature? Chizuru bit her lip as she drove off a moan. First Kenji, and then Kaoru. As the young woman meditated on the similarities between the two, she came to the obvious conclusion: They were related. And, judging from the vague details Chizuru had heard, Kaoru was indeed married to Himura Kenshin. Despite her obvious attempts to keep the details of Yukishiro Tomoe's death hidden, Kaoru had revealed enough. Himura Kenshin had killed his first wife. And after ten years of wandering, he had taken a second wife. They had a son.

Kenji.

He never ceased to confuse her. Why would he leave his home, when such a warm and welcoming family was willing to take him in with open arms? He had lived within sheltered walls, possibly with more siblings. He had friends. Why was he so willing to abandon all that? Why had he chosen a couple of strange girls to watch over, instead of remaining with those who loved him? Could it be possible that he felt unloved?

Or could it be possible that he hadn't loved _them_?

Chizuru shook her head, clearing it of the doubtful thoughts. In the end, despite all these questions, she knew she didn't want Kenji to leave. True, he had a family. He shouldn't have left them to begin with. But, as much as she hated to admit it to herself, Chizuru didn't want to lose him. He was her only friend, aside from Mana. Was she being selfish? Probably. But no amount of denial would change her growing attachment towards Kenji. Chizuru sighed into her lap. Only one person she felt a certain degree of caring for had survived: Mana. Kohaku made sure any other people were exterminated. Was it because they had avoided him that Kenji was safe? If so, it wouldn't last long. Worry knotted in Chizuru's belly, filling her with dread.

No one escaped. In the end, even her mother had fallen to Kohaku's malicious intentions.

And Chizuru had been the harbinger of his wrath. In exchange for daring to defy Kohaku, her mother had been killed. It was her daughter who delt the blow, who held the blade. Such was the worst punishment imaginable, both for victim and executioner. Chizuru allowed a sob to escape her lips, silence following as tears rolled down her cheeks. She hated crying. She hated the vulnerability that came with it. Vulnerability had killed her mother. It had allowed Chizuru to commit the crime.

Chizuru was shaken from her thoughts as the sound of footsteps echoing in the alley met her ears, immediately raising her alertness. She fell silent, swallowing the pain in her throat and wiping her eyes feverishly in an attempt to clear her vision. Just as she stood, the footsteps fell silent; a tall, thin man stood in the shadows. Chizuru felt the immediate urge to run, but she held her ground. Such actions would only seem suspicious.

"...I thought so," a voice came, overly smug. The man walked forward, allowing the shadows to fall away from his features. He was middle-aged - possibly somewhere in his late forties or early fifties - but everything about him suggested a strength no youth could match. He moved with perfect, brisk precision, his hand resting lazily on a sword at his side. His uniform labeled him as a policeman, and Chizuru instantly felt her fear melt away, only to be replaced by another type. The most noticeable feature about this man was his eyes: they were a feral, golden color. He seemed to be more of a wolf than a man.

"Who are you?" Chizuru asked, amazed with how evenly her voice came out.

"Fujita Goro," he answered offhandedly, advancing on her. Chizuru suddenly felt terribly vulnerable, and, glancing about, she realized that there were no immediate exits. She then realized with a morbid fear that he was studying her; not the kind of observation a pleasure-seeking man would exhibit, but the kind of a man trying to remember as if he had seen her before. Her fears were confirmed as he continued, "You were in the company of a young man last night."

_'Kenji?' _"Yes, I was. You care because...?" She could not help but add a biting tone to her words. The man sounded, if anything, like a stalker. But even as the thought crossed her mind, Fujita seemed to interpret it. He sneered.

"I'm more interested in your company than you, for the time being," he said coolly, causing the young woman to glower angrily. Being so easily dismissed could be a blow to anyone's pride. "He was a Himura, wasn't he?"

"No," she instinctively lied, disliking the man more and more. But, once again, her words were entirely ignored. Fujita easily believed himself over her. She continued in a pitiful attempt to render his suspicions false. "His name was Ideko Takashi."

"Oh, he was a Himura," Fujita said, sneering at her. "I know that much. I was just wondering how much you knew about him."

_'What does this guy want with Kenji?' _Chizuru wondered, immediately feeling defensive. Her first thought was to insist that she knew no such person, but the older man's confidence in himself made it obvious that lying was pointless. Her next thought was to leave. "Fujita" had no reason to apprehend her, and if she could get into a public area, she could make it look as if he were harassing her. It seemed the best course of action - albeit desperate - and, gathering her courage, Chizuru turned at an angle and took a step back. The man's eyes did not so much as flicker before he drew his katana, all amusement abandoning his features. Chizuru felt her pulse immediately quicken.

The point of the blade was suddenly gracing the wall behind her, inches from her face. Having failed to follow the action with her eyes, she gasped lightly. All thoughts of escape were replaced by mind-numbing fear. But just as soon as the man saw the fear in her eyes, he turned away, seemingly irritated; the blade was, thankfully, resheathed. Chizuru felt gravity pull her down against the wall, but in an attempt to salvage her dignity, she forced herself to stand.

"You are, for the time being, less than interesting," he said dismissively as he turned. The man cast her a cold, golden glare before he vanished completely. "But if my suspicions are right about you, you are someone to be exterminated."

He knew. Chizuru felt her stomach twist painfully as fear flooded through her again. Before she could allow herself to completely succumb to the terror brought forth by the fact that the wolf knew, she forced herself into action, half-running from the area. She needed to be among people. It didn't matter how little they cared. They served as a wall between her and men like Fujita.

But as she stumbled through the abandoned alleys of Kyoto, Chizuru was unaware of the real danger lurking in the shadows, watching and following, waiting for a chance to strike. The wolf of Mibu was the least of her worries.

xXx

Kenji had been trying to escape his family.

All he had wanted was to be given the chance to show his true potential; no parents, no siblings, no friends attached. He had wanted to be independent, free of the shadow his father had always cast upon him. For as long as he could remember, people in town had called him "Himura Kenshin's son". It had hardly been a title. It was more degrading than anything, being known for his father's name rather than his own. The further knowledge that when Kenji led his life the way he did - a sheltered life, rendered meaningless without excitement - his existence would never amount to anything. Such things had driven him to leave.

His family had followed him.

When he had caught site of Hiko's camp, the young Himura had mentally congratulated himself. Something, however, had been amiss; the fire was lit and the smell of superb cooking made Kenji alert of an unexpected guest. He had been expecting to find an old woman, a hermit who had grown to be Hiko's friend in the time they had shared the mountain. But as the campsite came into view, and both figures turned to meet him, Kenji felt his mind go numb. Finally, after a moment of attempting to speak, he found his voice.

"...Father."

_to be continued..._

_A/N: I'm finally getting some essential elements into the story. -whew!- I'm somewhat happy with this chapter, because I finally managed to get some action in... didn't I? -looks- Um... a little. But I finally got around to Kenshin seeing his son, Saitoh getting involved... yay. The next chapter will probably have a load of family crap and chase scenes (?). Um, also, the title is "Lose and Gain" because the Raikoji sisters are mourning the loss of their mother, while Kenji regrets regaining his father._


	14. Retreat and Fight

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin.**

Chizuru was, hopelessly and without a doubt, lost.

When she had abandoned the clearing the policeman had found her in, her mind had been in a state of frenzied panic. It had only been after she had turned one too many corners - corners chosen in a completely random order, so as to lose any other suspicious characters - that she had stopped, exhausted. Then she had pitifully attempted to place her mind back together, a task she completed with a bit of effort. Upon remembering the fierce, golden-eyed glower Fujita had thrown her, she shuddered. In a way, those eyes made her think of Kenji. Fierce, little room for compassion... would Kenji end up that way, if he were to continue with the belief that he was greater than others? The thought sent a second shudder down Chizuru's spine, and she inhaled deeply in another attempt to calm herself.

"Fujita" was a character to keep an eye on, and if his words carried any merit, he would be keeping an eye on her, too. What connection did he have with Kenji? Dismissing the worrying questions and thoughts from her mind, the young Raikoji attempted to identify her surroundings, searching for clues that might lead her to finding her way out. The high walls and curved rooves prevented her from seeing a good deal of the surrounding area, and, curling her fingers tightly into her palms, Chizuru bit back a curse. Climbing onto the rooves was out of the question. The next option was to wander aimlessly until she caught site of the Gion Shrine, the greatest attraction the festival had provided. Straightening and resolving herself to the task, Chizuru picked a random alley and strode into it.

She had been walking for about fifteen minutes when she was finally able to identify her surroundings, but the shrine of the Gion Festival was not her marker. It was, instead, the open window of a tall building next to her that allowed her to pick out her location. From inside came numerous voices, accompanied by drunken laughter - which Chizuru thought tasteless, considering the time of day - and the piteous squeals of young, unlucky women. Chizuru bit back a cry as her heartbeat increased dramatically, then pressed herself against a shadowed wall as a man dragged one unfortunate young woman towards the wall next to the window, his roaming hands saying much more than necessary. Despite his partner's obvious distress, she did nothing to prevent his actions. She had no choice in the matter.

_'A brothel,' _Chizuru thought, slipping away from the scene. Such things were very common around the slums of Kyoto. She felt her face heat up in embarrassment as the young girl's whines soon turned to pleasured giggles, then broke out in a run. She herself had unwillingly... serviced... men, but she had never grown used to it. She would never drop to the level of doing such horrid things willingly, not unless she and Mana were starving or dying. Desperately pressing the thoughts from her mind, Chizuru continued, glad to have at least learned her remote location.

It was a good deal of time later when Chizuru's belly rumbled in complaint, and she groaned. The revolting sounds from within the brothels had increased over the time, then had been replaced by sounds of children and their parents. She was once again nearing the center of the city, where a good deal of the activity took place. She hurried on, eager to escape the narrow maze she had placed herself in.

And then she stopped for a moment, her eyes widening just slightly as a strange, putrid scent assaulted her nostrils. Chizuru blinked, placing a hand over her nose in discomfort; the smell was easily dismissed, but she could not control the curiosity that drove her to dive into the alley. She cautioned herself against getting lost again, and to prevent such a thing from happening, she grabbed her hair ribbon - it was a dirty, ugly thing, one she hardly wore at all - and set it on the ground behind her, facing the alley she had come from. She then followed the scent, which became more revolting with every step she took. And yet, despite her efforts, she could not label the scent. Was it... rotting? She wrinkled her nose in distaste, but continued nonetheless.

And then, after taking the one-way alley for a few minutes, Chizuru stopped altogether, her mind going numb and her eyes wide. The smell had long-since become overpowering, then soon after accompanied by the sound of running water. The scent was fed by the moisture. It was not just the stench that horrified her - had that been the case, she would have left long ago - but the reason for it.

Chizuru had been completely right when she had labeled the scent as rotting. A strangled gasp escaped her lips, a terrified scream lodged in her throat. Her lips moved numbly as she tried to create words, to cry out for help, but those died on her lips. It was the man - the one who had assaulted her in an attempt to kill her that night - lying in the water, his top half splayed out on the edge of the vast puddle. Flies that had always been present suddenly created a horrible, ear-shattering droning as they feasted upon the carcass. Chizuru immediately felt the need to eat vanish as she stepped forward hesitantly, resisting her every urge to run. She reached out hesitantly - she needed to know the cause of death, at least - and turned him slightly, recoiling in disgust as the skin she gripped gave way beneath her fingers. Flies landed on her hands, unsure of the state of her own flesh, and she swatted them away in horror. The dead man's skin had long-since absorbed as much water as it could, resulting in a rotting, prunish state. Upon seeing his face, Chizuru turned away, repulsed beyond belief.

The man's piggish face, which she had strove so hard to forget, had been completely crushed in. Blood that had long-since dried crusted his remaining features, creating a morbid mask. His eyes were screwed shut by the unnatural state of his face, his noise and mouth slanting inward. Feeling the remainder of her breakfast stirring within her, Chizuru released the body, wiping her hands feverishly on her kimono, and ran into a dark corner to be sick. Her stomach lurched painfully, spewing up the last of her digested food. How long had it been since she had lost her food over something like this? She couldn't remember. After her temporary sickness passed, Chizuru wiped her mouth, spitting out the remains and tasting the bile of her stomach in her mouth. Revulsion filled her as she glanced back at the man, and she finally managed to place a thought together in her mind.

_'Who did this?' _she wondered as she recalled the crushed face, each gruesome detail burned into her mind. It couldn't have been a coincidence, and this wasn't the normal mugging. The state of the man, his body clear save for his head, suggested that the attack had been quick and precise. Whoever had performed it also had, without a doubt, immense strength. She instantly went over the names in her mind: Kohaku, Yousaku, Kagami, Akiro, and... Kenji. She then reluctantly began counting down, knocking each one off. Kohaku was terribly strong and clever, but he was not the type to just leave a body in an alley. He would have disposed of it in the river, at least, for the sake of secrecy. Yousaku used needles and a katana, both of which were incapable of inflicting this type of wound. For using the katana, Chizuru knocked Kagami and thankfully, Kenji from her list. That left Akiro.

This brute had known Akiro's name at the least, suggesting a higher position amongst his hired thugs. Akiro was nowhere near as organized as his brother, nor as well sponsored. He hired cheap thugs to compensate for his lack of sheer numbers. Oh, he had strong henchmen and he was quite clever, but he was nowhere near the level of Kohaku. Would he waste a valuable henchman? Chizuru doubted it.

Who committed the crime, then? Chizuru went over her list two more times before finally settling with Kagami. She knew the least about him, and he had a good deal of precise thugs at his disposal. But how did he _know_? Chizuru felt her heartbeat quicken as she went over the possibility of having been found again. _'Too soon,' _she thought feverishly. _'I can't move Mana-ne to a different place, and-- Kenji!' _Her mind whirled as she ran from the scene of the murder. What would happen to him? If Kagami had witnessed her assaulting, then he had seen Kenji, and... she bit back a desperate sob as she fell to her knees, rubbing her hands through her hair. He was in danger.

And then she was morbidly aware that she was not the only one in the alley; well, not the only _live _one. Ragged breathing that did not belong to her reached her ears, followed by a foul curse and then a hiss of surprise. For a moment, an agonizing silence followed. Chizuru dared to hope that the man had overlooked her, but she was not so lucky. A sharp pain exploded in her back as a foot descended upon it, slamming her down forcefully. A slight gasp escaped her before she picked herself up quickly, whirling around and facing her next attacker. Before she could properly address the enormous, muscular brute, a fist slammed across her face. Chizuru stumbled back, her hands blindly searching for something to support her. She failed, and with another cry, tumbled onto the cruel stone road beneath her. She could taste blood in her mouth, could feel it running through the scratches in her hands. Her vision was reeling as the man mercilessly kicked her in the stomach, earning a third cry from her. She knew another blow like that would break a rib or two.

A fourth blow was about to make contact, but Chizuru managed to roll to the side and avoid it. A bad-tempered curse came from her attacker, and before he was able to pursue her, she found a wall and stood against it, extending a hand in his general direction.

"Don't!" she barely managed to croak past her bloodied lips. She vaguely wondered what kind of good such words would do, but shoved the thought from her mind as the burly man brought a fist down on her shoulder, grounding her a second time. "You're working for Akiro, aren't you?" This time, the man paused; Chizuru dared to hope that he had discovered compassion, but rather, he sneered at her and nodded. The girl mentally swore as she clumsily rolled again, regaining her footing with a good deal of difficulty. Her body throbbed in agony as she attempted to dance away from his fists. Had he a katana, she would have all ready been dead.

Chizuru bit back a scream as he lurched out and grabbed her by the kimono. In a desperate attempt to escape the blows he would soon throw upon her, she dragged herself away, only to be dragged back and swung harshly. The young Raikoji gasped as the fabric of her kimono tore, revealing the white yukata she had worn underneath it but nonetheless freeing her. Half-running, half-staggering, she strove to put as much distance as she could between the two of them. But the fabric of her remaining kimono restricted her legs, and in an attempt to free herself, she stepped over it. The abandoned remains of her kimono allowed her to increase her pace and stride, further placing ground between them.

"_Bitch!_ Akiro payed me a good price to kill you!" the man roared, taking after her with amazing speed. Chizuru bit her lip and looked ahead; upon catching site of the ribbon she had placed on the road earlier, she ran faster. Her body ached in complaint, begged to be allowed rest for the sore areas, but she ignored the throbbing and pressed herself on. The angered roars followed her, barely changing in volume.

Then something caught her eye; hills in the distance, framing the very top of a tall, red shrine... panting as she picked up her pace, Chizuru marked the Gion Shrine as her vantage point and charged forward, ducking into alleys and weaving through the maze with reckless abandon, but still managing to keep an eye on the building. She was cut off as the man who had been giving chase whirled around a corner she chose, slamming into her with his full weight and strength. Chizuru fell back with a pained gasp, sucking in her breath a second time with his fist shot out and hit her face as she fell. Feeling her head scream with pain, she stumbled; she had been so close to escaping, and her exit had been cut off. The constant, panicked running had drained her of a good deal of her strength.

Another blow knocked her back - she was barely quick enough to block a portion of it with her hands, absorbing most of the impact and pushing her more than hurting her - and she failed to immediately pick herself back up. A sobbing gasp escaped her as she drew in a breath, her hands searching desperately for something to defend herself with and finding nothing. The man merely laughed, insanity replacing his ability to feel compassion for his victim. Chizuru saw him raise a hand in preparation, then squeezed her eyes shut.

She then listened as the man's pleased chuckles turned into agonized screams.

Something heavy hit the ground - Chizuru dared to hope that someone had come to her aid, someone had knocked him out - and she opened her eyes, searching her savior's face. A panicked cry escaped her as she struggled to her elbows, somehow finding the strength to push herself back up. It was Fujita--... wasn't it? No... as Chizuru studied him for a moment, she realized that this was not the wolfish man who had interrogated her earlier. This man was much more youthful, and his face possessed a gentle feature that had failed the fierce policeman. Although there seemed a slight gap in the immediate strength between the two, Chizuru knew he was strong. Before she could run, he extended a hand, helping her to stand.

"Are you all right?" he asked, concerned. Chizuru nodded vaguely, glancing over towards her aggressor. He was still, but hopefully not dead; despite the amount of damage she had sustained at his hands, she couldn't wish him dead. Seeing her first attacker in such a gruesome state prevented it. As she turned her head slightly, she caught site of his arm; it was slashed deeply, blood running from it. Biting back a gasp and pulling her hand from the police's, she looked away. He followed her previous line of vision and calmly resheathed his sword, which she had failed to notice earlier. "I'm sorry if such things make you queasy." He wasn't mocking her.

"Will he... will he be all right?"

"Yes. He's lucky he's so thick," he said, a cold smile breaking out on his lips. Chizuru felt the immediate need to shudder, but suppressed it. "If he hadn't been, he would have lost his arm." Then, turning and allowing her to rest against the wall for a moment, he tore a piece of the man's clothes and used it to tie a good portion of the wound. "He'll be tended to once I bring him back with me."

"Bring him ba--... why do you need him?" Chizuru questioned. The young man stared at her as if she were insane. The young Raikoji looked away, feeling embarrassed. Of course he would bring him to a police station; he had just assaulted a young woman. Upon reading her facial features, the policeman nodded, realizing that he need not lecture her.

"He's certainly a _large _man," he mumbled offhandedly, lifting the man by his unmarked arm. "A little information on your assault would be useful." For a moment, Chizuru feared that she, too, would be dragged away unwillingly, but the silence that followed his words erased her fears. He wanted answers now.

"I... he... that is..." Chizuru took in a shaky breath, then continued, a good deal of false confidence in her voice. "He was my old... lover." It hurt to lie in such a horrid way, especially when such an action made her would-be-murderer the object of old affections. But as she continued, weaving the fabrication quickly and precisely, she grew less embarrassed and more confident. A loathing that was not so false crept into her voice. "I had only recently broken off our relationship. He doesn't take rejection easily..." She gestured to her state of dress. "...you can see that."

"Ah," the policeman said neutrally. Chizuru breathed out a sigh through her nose, but tensed up once again when he continued. "His name would be very helpful, then. I could search for a history in this sort of violence."

The young Raikoji swore in her mind. A name! She hadn't considered that when she had been lying. She would beat herself later for such a mistake. At present, her mind was whirling in an attempt to pull a completely random name from her list.

"Yamanako Jiro," she answered. The young man's eyes flickered, and for a moment she felt her stomach drop. Could he see through her lies? But then he nodded, momentarily banishing her fears. He then stood and began dragging the man from the clearing. Chizuru blinked for a moment, many questions filling her mind; she stepped forward to help, but only found herself hindering him as she stumbled from exhaustion. "How did you find me?" she croaked as she stood, following him at a staggering pace. There was little chance that a policeman had been wandering through the maze just as aimlessly as she.

"I came here to avoid the crowd," he said simply, and although it seemed a pitiful excuse, he made it sound true. "I also got reports concerning strange people in this area. I'm glad they weren't completely bogus." He shifted the man on his shoulder, causing him to groan slightly. Chizuru couldn't resist a smile. The gesture seemed to encourage the man, for he grinned too. "I hope you choose better men next time."

"There won't be other men," she said, attempting to smile. The truth of such words shook her, but she masked her worries. The curious look she received from the policeman unnerved her, and she continued. "So, I can't be satisfied with you apprehending my attacker without knowing your name."

"Saitou Tsutomu," he said almost cheerfully. "Pleased to meet you."

"Thank you, Saitou-san," she replied. "You've saved me a good deal of grief." And then the morbid memory of the dead man in the alley returned to her; all cheeriness vanished from her mind, replaced by a sense of immediate urgency. Although no words were spoken in such a brief period of time, Tsutomu seemed to notice it.

"What is it?"

"There's... there's something suspicious," she began slowly, turning towards the scene from which she had just escaped. "Down that alley. I... I didn't get a close look, but I could smell something."

"And?"

"I think it was rotting."

xXx

For what seemed to be an eternity, Kenji stared at his father, who returned the stare with equal intensity. Then Hiko snorted dismissively and turned back towards the fire, muttering about how the only good thing his pupils had to offer was their cooking. Kenshin himself remained silent, his violet eyes boring into the blue ones of his son. There were no questions. He was not confused. All Kenji could see in his father's stare was utter disappointment, and that was what wounded him the most.

"Kenji," Kenshin finally said, his voice tired, resigned. His next words hardly matched with his obvious mood. "I'm glad I found you." Kenji was suddenly aware of his own teeth being ground together, his clenched fists.

"I'm sure you are," he said, sarcasm dripping from his voice. Kenshin looked shaken for a moment by his son's coldness, but then he narrowed his eyes, hardening his emotions. His inability to openly confront Kenji infuriated the young man. Could he not be looked upon as an adult? Hadn't he proved his maturity by leaving home, by making himself independent? All the frustration his had ever felt towards his family, towards his father, made him burn.

"We need to talk, Kenji," Kenshin began grimly, almost forcefully. Kenji returned the statement with a glare that spoke volumes. If his father expected to drag him back home to his mother, to his siblings and friends, he was wrong. The young Himura had finally found his freedom; there was no way he was going to let it go so easily. Kenshin, seemingly reading his son's face, continued sternly. "Your mother has been attacked and wounded."

That was unexpected; Kenji's eyes widened, worry for his mother overcoming his frustration towards his family as a whole. Kenshin himself was glad for the change. It meant that Kenji was not completely heartless. He was nowhere near what he had feared.

"What? Why?" he demanded, his eyes narrowing. Rage at Kaoru's attacker ate at him, fueling his anger.

"A young man attacked her last night," Kenshin said, searching his son's face for any signs of recognition. "She was pierced by numerous needles-" Kenji's eyes widened as realization hit him, "-around her neck. According to Megumi, her attacker was a master doctor."

"I... I can't beli--"

"Yes, you can," Kenshin cut him off, his voice lowering to the point of a growl. His son was involved with Kaoru's assaulters; the look in his eyes had said that much, if only for a moment. "You are under the _employment _of these men." The rage was barely contained in his voice. Kenshin wanted nothing more than to demand the answers his son was holding from him, to demand why his son had allianced himself with such people in the first place. What had happened to the child that had, many a time, stranded himself on the roof of the dojo? What had happened to the innocent boy? And just as soon as he asked himself these questions, he knew the answer.

Kenshin had given Kenji a demon. He had given him the ability to lock away his emotions, his true feelings, from the world. He had given Kenji the Battousai. As the guilt for what had happened to the boy hit him, Kenshin ground his teeth, his hands itching for a sword. He was good with words - he had used this talent many a time to convince enemies of their inner problems - but with Kenji, he would need to use something different. He would need to show him that even without Hiten, there was true strength.

And then Hiko, as if reading his former student's thoughts, grabbed his own sword and tossed it to Kenshin. He caught the weapon as if he had been expecting it; he immediately stood, alert and waiting for his son's confusion to pass. When Kenji finally seemed able to comprehend that his father was actually challenging him - that something he had always wanted was coming true - he could not suppress something akin to a sneer. Although this greatly disturbed Kenshin, he said nothing, his mouth drawing into a tight line. He slid the blade from its sheath and flipped it, facing his son with the blunt side of the blade. The sakabatou he faced was once his own; he knew it better than anyone. Although Hiko's sword was masterfully crafted, there was a possibility that it could not hold against his old reversed blade.

"This is what you wanted, wasn't it?" Kenshin asked, his voice low and dangerous. Kenji immediately drew the sakabatou from its sheath, a silent nod confirming his thoughts and fears. Kenshin bit back on his urge to protect his son rather than to fight, to preserve instead of endanger. He instead thought of how Kenji had threatened his family, and determination resolved his actions. "If you cannot see how _weak_ you are, then I will show you."

Kenji's grip on the sakabatou tightened momentarily; Kenshin took note of how he had so easily wounded his son's pride. Had it expanded since they had last seen each other? The possibility was mortifying. His cynical attitude towards strangers, his pride and arrogance about his strength... he was like both Saitoh and Shishio. But before he was allowed to contemplate any further possibilities, Kenji had crossed the distance between them, his sword drawn and headed towards his ribs.

Kenshin immediately brought up Hiko's katana, worrisome thoughts abandoned in favor of observing his newest opponent. Kenji was not terribly strong - he had grown up using a bokken, so this weakness was unavoidable - but he was fast. His slim frame and quick feet made up for his lack of natural muscle. Kenshin smoothly rose his sword to cover his shoulder, the sakabatou's next target; he could almost feel Kenji's anger driving him on. Was this his usual motivation for fighting? If so, he would not last long. Another strike forced Kenshin to duck and bring Hiko's katana above his head, blocking the swing that had transformed into a downwards slash. He was then caught slightly off guard as his son pulled the blade away and turned, using his speed and momentum to propel his third strike. Kenshin actually had to utilize his ability to escape, throwing himself backwards and regaining his footing. Despite himself, he was proud of Kenji. His son was not good enough to defeat him - it would take a good deal of time and hard training - but he had an exceptional amount of ability. His pride was banished as Kenshin reminded himself of the source of this power: the Battousai.

"So _slow,_" he said as he blocked another blow, this one aimed at his skull. He saw Kenji grind his teeth and struck his first blow; his son, unprepared for an offensive move, just barely blocked it. Kenshin then flipped the blade - the blunt side faced his opponent - and struck a second time with speed he thought he had lost, landing the blow flawlessly. Kenji stumbled back, a pained gasp escaping his lips as his hand flew to his injured shoulder. Kenshin took the opportunity to crouch and sweep his son's feet out from underneath him. Kenji picked himself up nimbly, unwilling to give up. It was his mother's determination that drove him to this. Kenshin decided against attacking while his son readied himself again; he wanted to see more of Kenji's talent.

And so, Kenshin allowed himself to be absorbed in the fight with Kenji, his thoughts forgotten. If he had taught him more, would his son have surpassed him by now? Although unlikely, it may have happened. Kenshin felt a twinge of regret, but pressed it away and focused on the deadly dance he had willingly entered. After a moment, Kenji's ragged breathing evened out, his body conditioning itself so that it may work sufficiently for a longer time. Kenshin allowed himself a smile. Kenji was going to be so very strong, and despite Kenshin's peaceful wishes, he found himself satisfied with that. But while he was mildly enjoying the fight, Kenji obviously felt otherwise.

"You never did anything for me," he said suddenly, his voice low, his bangs masking his eyes. Kenshin hesitated, caught slightly off guard. The sakabatou swung towards his head in a swift arc; Kenshin pushed his body to block it with the katana, but was also surprised by the amount of power hidden behind the blow. Kenji's voice remained low as he repeated the phrase a second time, then a third. "You never..." Another blow, and Kenshin was hard pressed to block it and gain his son's back, "...did _anything _for me!" And when Kenshin met his son's eyes, he fell back a step, the site carrying the weight of a physical blow.

Amber.

Kenji seemed to notice this surprise, and immediately after the cause of it. A sickening sneer painted his features. "So you've noticed, too. Do you like them? I _hate _them." The sneer vanished, replaced by barely contained fury. "They've only reminded me of what you _didn't _do when you had the _chance!_" And with those words, he charged again.

The blade was suddenly centimeters from making contact with his face; Kenshin's eyes widened as he immediately ducked, the point of the blade sailing harmlessly over his head. He swung out at Kenji's legs in an attempt to make him lose his footing, but he failed; his son danced out of the way almost effortlessly. Kenshin tried a few more intricate attacks, swinging and slashing, blocking and thrusting, but Kenji seemed to parry every move. Earlier, he had been unable to do this. He was growing strong too fast, and his obvious will to do harm to Kenshin was appalling. Kenji's words only helped to deepen this emotional wound.

"You wasted your time playing the perfect dad! You could have actually _taught _me something!" Another blow. Another. Kenshin felt his breath shorten just slightly as they continued, but he was far from exhausted. If only he had the Hiten style, it would be so much easier to defeat Kenji. Kenshin pressed the nagging thought from his mind, gritting his teeth and dodging another. "I'm weak, right? I'm slow, right? It's all because of you!" And then Kenshin's eyes widened as a swift Hiten move was brought upon him: Kenji was gone, vanished from his place on the ground as he jumped and brought down the sword in a swift, powerful move. Ryutsuisen. Kenshin audibly gasped as he jumped back slightly, blocking the blade at an angle and forcing Kenji's weight from him. The blade in his hands staggered slightly, but remained strong.

Kenji's sakabatou was suddenly swung towards him, its speed and power quite obviously conveying his every wish to damage his own father. Kenshin felt instinct take over - he could not dodge, and attempting to block the blow could permanently damage Hiko's katana - and before his body could scream in protest, he ducked and swung, centrifugal force propelling him around.

"Ryukansen!" he hissed as the blade collided with Kenji, sending him backwards. Then his entire body was screaming, cursing him for having used a Hiten move; he, too, stumbled back and could not get up. Kenshin drew in a ragged breath, suppressing a cry as pain licked up through his entire body. He tried to force himself into a standing position; all he could move was his hand, with which he released the katana. He had been a fool, and for such a mistake, he was paying the price. Megumi's words on his condition according to Hiten Mitsurugi echoed through his mind almost accusingly.

Kenji was in a condition much like his father's. Pain burned through his side, where the flipped katana had struck. The force and speed of the attack had caught him completely off guard; had the sharp end been facing him, his torso would have been slashed from the rest of his body. He bit his lip, challenging his pain and pulling himself up. Kenji blinked as the rage vanished from him in small portions, slowly replaced by shame. He had lost control of himself. And he had still lost. But as he glanced over in his father's direction, ready for a challenge or a sermon - he preferred the former - his eyes widened. Kenshin was still helpless, lying on the ground. If anything, the impact of the attack had wounded him more than his son.

"Father," he croaked, a number of emotions in his voice. He was ashamed. Frustrated. And despite these emotions, the first and foremost in his mind was regret. The name Kenshin had given the move, most likely shouted through pure habit, had labeled the attack as a Hiten move. Kenji knew the rules applying to his father: he was not to use the style. After having learned the final move, his small body had slowly but surely lost the ability to fight the way he had used to. In the act of defeating his son, Kenshin had wounded himself. Kenji shakily brought himself to his feet, struggling with the urge to hate his father and the will to assist him. He finally chose the latter, extending a hand; upon realizing that his father could not even move to pull himself up, Kenji became seriously worried. He finally dropped all formalities. "Dad."

"Stupid pupil," Hiko's voice said accusingly from the other side of the yard. Kenji didn't even bother to look at his master as he continued, "He knew the consequences of using those moves. He'll be pretty sore by the time he can move."

Kenji stared at his father, unwilling to submit to his regret. But as he moved forward just slightly, Kenshin visibly throbbed and Kenji forgot his pride, kneeling at his father's side and allowing a silence to settle upon them. It was suddenly mortifying, witnessing his father fall. Kenshin had always been a source of strength; he had never been one to tremble or stagger. Kenji looked away, unwilling to meet the truth of what he had done. He focused his mind on other things.

"Mom will kill you if she notices," Kenji finally murmured, breaking the silence with a topic they mutually enjoyed. "And she _does _notice these things." For a moment, Kenshin was silent; Kenji felt worry flood through him. Was he really hurt that seriously? Or did he simply prefer not to speak with his son? The second thought carried more emotional weight than the first, and in an effort to banish his worries, he continued. "I lost control." The statement hung in the air, nagging and bare without an apology to follow.

"Yes," Kenshin murmured, a shuddering breath following his word. Kenji felt relief flood through him as his father continued calmly, "But you couldn't have defeated me, even if you had continued." Kenji felt a slight pang as his pride took the blow, but he pressed his rage aside. More important issues were at hand.

"You said Mom was attacked," he said, breaking through the somewhat pleasant atmosphere. Kenshin was silent - his mouth set in a grim line, his brow furrowing - and nodded. He wanted Kenji to continue, to explain, but the constantly expanding silence suggested otherwise. Finally, the young Himura drew in a shaky breath and dared to question his father. "The boy used needles, right? And Takani-san said he had medical skills--"

"Kenji," Kenshin finally interrupted, his violent eyes boring into the blue ones of his son. Kenshin's grim demeanor vanished just a bit upon seeing his son in a more stable state, but he continued in all seriousness. "You know who I was talking about. I saw it in your face." Kenji seemed to deflate slightly; he nodded, to which his father closed his eyes and drew in a steady breath. His energy was returning, slowly and surely. The pain was beginning to ebb. "What I want to know is _why _you would assist such people."

"I wanted... strength," Kenji murmured, looking away guiltily. Kenshin was silent, and, encouraged by his lack of reprimands, Kenji continued. "I was told my family wouldn't be involved, but something must've happened--"

"You trusted these people enough to tell them about your own family?" Kenshin breathed, his voice calm. Kenji immediately stiffened, shaking his head furiously.

"I didn't! They... they just knew." The reasons should have been obvious - the Battousai was a legend, after all - but nonetheless, Kenshin seemed to want more explanations. "I look like you, and everyone knows about you." He couldn't suppress the bitter tone that came along with his words, and when met by his father's gaze, he looked away. He had so easily forgotten how kind and loving Kenshin had been to his family. He had forgotten that his mother, his siblings, even himself... they were all Kenshin had to hold onto and to love in only a way a man could care for his family.

And if Kenshin knew what was best for the remainder of his family, he would leave. Kenji hardened his heart against all other possibilities, closing his mind on the one option he had chosen and deemed as correct. The sorrow and regret Kenji had felt earlier vanished, replaced by determination.

"You will leave."

Kenshin blinked - he hadn't expected such a quick change of attitude from his son - and stared at the younger Himura, who merely stared back with unquestionable conviction. Inhaling sharply, Kenshin forced his body into action, ignoring the searing pain running through his limbs and down his spine. Kenji's eyes did not so much as flicker as his father sat up, gasping from the mere effort. The words he had spoken had been and order, not a request.

"Kenji, you underestimate me."

"No, _you _underestimate _me_," his son countered evenly. Kenshin shook his head, eyes downcast as he once again grew used to operating his own body. What would it take for Kenji to understand that he wasn't as strong as he made himself out to be? How long would it be until he realized that his family, his close companions, were to be relied upon instead of forced away? Kenshin almost laughed at the irony of such a thought. Hadn't he, too, pushed Kaoru and the others away in a futile attempt to keep them safe?

"You can't fight people like these by yourself," Kenshin said simply. "And you can't just forget that you have a family to come back to."

"I don't intend on returning home for a good time, _father,_" Kenji returned coldly, stressing the final word to the point in which it carried no respect whatsoever. Kenshin felt the immense gap between them, fathomless and growing. "And I work for these people. I have no intention of fighting them. Besides..." His eyes flickered, rage briefly shadowing them as he continued, "...your being here is endangering your family."

_Your family._

Kenji had just disowned his own family.

xXx

Mana had not expected to be reunited with the Shinomori family, but it was a blissful surprise. The young Raikoji was met with countless greetings, friendly gestures, and warm invites as she was led into the Aoi-ya by Himura Kaoru. A few faces were unfamiliar - there were two children Kaoru had claimed to be her own, and another who addressed himself as Myogin Shinya - but she knew and greeted the Shinomoris as if she had known them all her life. As she sat on the porch overlooking the scenic backyard, playing with the adorable child Aoko, she reminisced about her own childhood. It had not been as warm and loving as this had been, but she wasn't about to complain. Mana could have very easily spent the rest of her life with people like these. Why had Kenji chosen to abandon them?

"Mana-chan, you're a natural with children," Kaoru said, grinning as she watched Mana comb her fingers gently through Aoko's thick, dark hair. Said girl merely smiled modestly, squeezing the child in a gentle embrace. She would make a fine mother. Aoko himself was already smitten with her; the six year old smiled and allowed her to coddle him as he had allowed no other.

"Where's nee-san?" he asked suddenly, and both Mana and Kaoru blinked; the former, realizing that it was Chizuru of whom he spoke, smiled reassuringly.

"She wasn't feeling really well, but I'll bring her later-- Chizuru-ne?" She blinked in surprise as said girl wandered out onto the porch, her eyes nervously assessing the people around her. The employee who had brought her bowed politely and left to complete her chores. Chizuru's knuckles were white as she looked down, having completed her inspection. Mana could have laughed; there was no danger among such people as these. "How are you feeling, Chizuru-ne?"

"Fine," she murmured offhandedly, her expression brightening as Aoko dashed over to her. She leaned down, ruffling his wild hair. "How're you, Aoko?"

"Great," he said, beaming uncharacteristically. "I've been practicing." It took Chizuru a moment to realize what he was talking about, but once she realized that it was of the paper-ball twirling of which he spoke, she grinned.

"Are you any good yet?" To this, Aoko looked down at his toes bashfully, shaking his head. Chizuru merely shrugged. "It takes a long time to get used to. Don't worry. If you keep it up, you'll have it down in no time."

"Chizuru-chan," Kaoru voiced, and when faced by said girl, she smiled. "I'm glad to see you again." And uneasy smile crossed Chizuru's features as she nodded. Then her eyes flickered as a question arose in her mind.

"Do you have any children?" she murmured, fully aware of the number but not wanting to seem presumptuous. Kaoru beamed as she pointed to Shinta and Ai; the former was play-wrestling with an unfamiliar, spiky-haired boy while the latter watched from a safe distance, Rei sitting by her side.

"The redhead is Shinta," she said, "and the girl is Ai. The boy Shinta is playing with is Myogin Shinya. His parents couldn't come because Tsubame just found out she's pregnant, and they need to plan for the baby." A warmth crossed Chizuru's features as the last sentence was spoken. Kaoru then fell silent, thinking of the son that had left. Kenshin had gone to get information from Hiko. That much was obvious; why did he insist on keeping secrets from her? Kenji was her son just as much as he was Kenshin's. A brave smile crossed her lips, disguising her sadness. "I also have a son who's out traveling. His name is Kenji."

"...I see," Chizuru murmured. The group fell silent for a moment - save for the chattering Aoko made - and Kaoru, nervous, broke it.

"So, where are you two staying? Around the center of town?" Chizuru shook her head, specifying very little but guaranteeing that it was an inn rather than a house. The three then chatted aimlessly for a while; the pleasant atmosphere was broken when a string of vulgar language filtered from the Aoi-ya, followed by a harsh smack and further arguing. Mana was wide-eyed; Chizuru's mouth hung open in surprise as a tall, spiky-haired man came out, followed by a beautiful, dark-haired woman. The former was causing all the swearing, it seemed.

"Dammit, Fox, it wasn't my fault!"

"Don't take me for a fool, Rooster! It doesn't take a genius to figure out who broke a few expensive valuables! You'll be lucky if the Shinomori family doesn't throw you out! You've been nothing but a pain in the behind, and if you keep it up--"

"I don't remember _asking _for you to babysit me!"

"I don't remember wanting to babysit you, either! You've got the manners of a two-year-old!" As the argument raged on, Chizuru's gaping mouth formed a smile; she shook with suppressed giggles as the verbal darts became sharper, far more personal than need be. The conversation had long-since abandoned the subject of broken items, pushing into each other's personal lives.

"Stupid hag! No wonder you aren't married yet; you're too damn annoying! If it weren't for your decent tits, no guy would take a second look at you!" This comment was followed by a cold slap across the face from Megumi, who, amazingly, retained her calm demeanor as she fought back.

"Well, that's a plus to being stupid _and _ugly," she taunted. "You never bathe, you never shave... it's a wonder girl's don't run away from you upon sight!" She waved a hand in front of her nose for emphasis. Sano bristled.

Chizuru, who had been watching the argument as it had raged, smiled slightly. She shifted slightly, moving to her knees, but a pained gasp escaped her, drawing the attention of all and silencing the fight. Mana looked at her wordlessly, then sat next to her and gently pressed her fingers on her sister's stomach; surprised and unprepared, the young Raikoji gave a pained cry. She then bit her lip and grinned, pulling away.

"It's nothing," she said. Mana was about to argue when Megumi, having interpreted Chizuru's pain, stepped over to her and extended a hand, helping her to stand. Chizuru looked somewhat confused and altogether hesitant, but the female doctor was a silent, commanding figure as she led her away. The remainder of people watched as the two silently entered the house, closing the door behind them. Mana then went back to Aoko, giving him the undivided attention he had gained earlier.

"What was that all about?" Sano half-snapped, confused and unable to completely lash out at someone. No one made a move to answer him; he whipped his head around, attempting to catch someone's gaze, but he ultimately failed. Chewing on his trademark fish-bone, the wanderer snorted. "I'll never understand women."

xXx

"Who did this to you?" Megumi questioned as she rearranged Chizuru's clothing to cover her bruises once again. The young Raikoji attempted to smile, but the doctor's stern face rejected any hopes of fooling her. Megumi was clearly enraged - whoever had done this had gone much too far, almost to the point of breaking her ribs - and, feeling defeated, Chizuru sighed. Must she continue to lie?

"My... former companion," she said, hoping she looked as embarrassed as she felt. Megumi's features did not soften. Feeling vulnerable and transparent, Chizuru attempted a smile typical of any teenage girl and continued chatting pleasantly, "I had only recently broken up with him, but he'd always had a bad temper..." She gestured to her midsection, ignoring the guilty twist in her gut. "He wasn't exactly pleased with my decisions."

"Really," Megumi said coolly, her tone doing nothing to disguise her sarcasm. Chizuru almost flinched; the woman's cold glare spoke more than words could ever relate. It was obvious enough that the female doctor didn't believe her. Suppressing the immediate urge to spill her guts, Chizuru nodded.

"Really," she echoed. Megumi rose a brow in return. The female doctor finally opened her mouth, looking fully prepared to officially shoot down Chizuru's lies, but a cry from the yard drew the attention of both women. Chizuru immediately stood, gasping as pain licked up through her midsection. She then slid the door open and bolted out. Megumi followed hesitantly; the cry had been nothing to worry over. If anything, it had been a happy sound.

Chizuru stopped as soon as she reached the porch; she had long-since memorized the details that made up Himura Kenji. A smile drew itself across her lips, but before she could call out to the figure across the yard, Kaoru did. Kenji's mother ran forward, a broad smile on her own face as she repeated her son's name over and over. Chizuru watched, feeling somewhat out of place, as mother embraced son. Kenji was silent for a moment, still and unmoving; then he drew up his own hands, returning the embrace. Kaoru's lips moved, but Chizuru could not pick out the words. Kenji said nothing. Then Kaoru stiffened; her son had drawn himself away from her, placing an arm's distance between them. His lips moved. Kaoru's smile faded.

Chizuru took a few reluctant steps forward, her eyes never leaving Kenji's cold, stern face. Was this all the compassion he would show his own mother? Whatever he was saying was obviously wounding Kaoru; as she returned his words, her hands balled into fists. She was pleading with him. As she slowly closed the distance between them, Chizuru could catch small fragments of the conversation they were holding. Kenji did not notice her. If he did, he was ignoring her.

"...to Tokyo with us... your father has... you've lost some weight..." Kaoru was desperately trying to make her son smile, to win her son over with the bond only a mother could forge, but she was failing. Kenji's eyes flickered as Chizuru came close enough to touch, but he did not meet her gaze.

"...I think it would be best for you to leave," he told Kaoru, who blinked in confusion. "I have no intention of returning soon. However, until I do..." His eyes narrowed, "You are no longer my family."

Then his hand was on Chizuru's wrist, pulling her quite forcefully towards the exit. Unsure of what to think, what to say, said girl instinctively balked. Kenji, however, paid no heed to her protests. He merely glanced over to Mana, and with a jerk of his head, she was following behind. Chizuru looked back to Kaoru to find the woman standing where she had previously been, her mouth drawn into a tight line. Was she going to cry? Was she going to beg her own son to reconsider his actions? Chizuru dug her heels into the ground, and in response, Kenji pulled harder. The young Raikoji kept her eyes on Kaoru. The cries of Kenji's siblings and close friends, the people who cared so much for him and were tossed aside by him, had only just reached her ears. But Kaoru was silent. Chizuru looked away, easing her protests. She had no business in the family's problems.

"Kenji," Kaoru suddenly murmured, drawing Chizuru's attention. She looked back to the woman to see that she was wearing a bold, confident smile. Kenji regarded this unexpected response coldly. "We may leave eventually. And you may not be coming back with us. But..." Her smile broadened as she continued, "...I expect to see you back at the dojo once you've grown." Then she turned, wordlessly leading the others back into the Aoi-ya.

Chizuru ceased her struggling altogether, allowing herself to be lead away. A silence fell over the three as they slowly made their way towards the outskirts of the city. Kenji did not release her wrist, and while amidst her thinking, Chizuru could have really cared less.

Why had Kenji abandoned his family? What kind of sin could they have committed to earn such hatred from him? But then again, Kenji's eyes hadn't been full of hatred; they had been clouded over with a cold, dispassionate film. He held no grudge against them. Then what could it have been? Chizuru nearly sighed aloud, distressed with her confusion. Could someone have threatened the Himura family? Who would have the guts, with people like Himura Kenshin and Shinomori Aoshi to fight against? If Kenji was taking a threat seriously, it was not a person to be overlooked.

_'A person like Kohaku...'_

Upon remembering the man who had caused her such grief, who had abused her both mentally and physically, Chizuru immediately stiffened. Kenji's grip on her wrist tightened in an instant response to her fear. But even as she felt a small amount of comfort, the young Raikoji also felt suspicions cloud her mind; suspicions directed towards the young man leading her. His hands, once lightly calloused from much use with a bokken, were already showing signs of growing rough in texture. How often did he practice with that reverse-bladed sword of his? There was little time for such things, and with Hiko living so far away, he rarely practiced with the thirteenth master of Hiten.

Was he getting practice elsewhere...? Chizuru remembered looking at her father's hands as an innocent child - failing to realize what he would eventually do to her - and picking out the places that had most often felt the hilt of a sword. As questions about Kenji's source of strength flooded her mind, Chizuru found herself facing other worries. Kenji's overall interest in their troubles was not like him. Was he the type to help strangers in need? He seemed like an uncaring person, one to avoid sticking their noses in others' business, and yet... there were times when kindness flickered through his eyes, be they blue or gold. Chizuru didn't know which to call him.

The fact that he held her wrist so gently now made her want to believe that he was naturally kind. But his actions earlier - along with the seed of suspicion that had just been planted in her mind - kept it from happening.

_to be continued..._

_A/N: Argh, sorry for taking so long, guys. School just ended, and I had finals and the like... boo. D: I'm not too pleased with this part, but I dunno. I seriously need to get the plot moving._


	15. Wound and Comfort

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin.**

It was a good deal of time before Kenji finally pried his fingers from Chizuru's wrist, relaxing his legs and allowing the both of them to walk with less energy. Chizuru let out a sigh - Kenji only noticed because he, too, could feel his legs pulse from the lengthy steps he had taken - but he did not do likewise. Mana, who had been following with some difficulty, let out a large, exhausted gasp. As Kenji began to identify parts of the neighborhood, pulling out details that would lead them to the inn, Chizuru remained unusually silent. She didn't know what to say; her friend had changed drastically, and if she were to press him too much, she would no doubt receive an unexpected result.

Kaoru's smiling face intruded upon Chizuru's thoughts. Her son had just disowned his family. How could she have been so... calm? Did she not care about her own son? Or was it something else? The young Raikoji sighed, telling herself that Kaoru was not the type of person to easily dismiss her child and go on with her life. Although the Himura wife had been confident, even encouraging, there must have been a surge of pain welling up within her. Kaoru was trying to teach her son - to allow him a chance to learn without being forcibly taught. Another sigh escaped Chizuru. Adults were either utterly stupid, immensely wise, or a bit of both.

"Why did you do that?" It took Chizuru a moment to realize that she had been the one to question Kenji. The young Himura's eyes flickered for a moment, but he was silent. Irritated with being so easily ignored, she repeated the question. She was met with the same answer. The lack of words hung above them like a void, fathomless, until they reached the door of the inn. Chizuru was about to argue with him, to demand any sort of verbal answer, when Kenji abruptly spoke.

"Go to bed."

"Excuse me?" she rose an eyebrow, incensed. Being ordered around was worse than being ignored. Mana was silent, the image of obedience and serenity; she nodded and murmured something akin to "good night", then vanished into the dark hallways. Chizuru turned her glare upon Kenji. "You can't just tell me what to do."

"I can," he said coldly, his hand clamping down on her arm in a vice like manner. Stunned and a bit frightened by his sudden change - although she had tried to prepare herself for it - the young Raikoji attempted to pull away. Kenji turned his gaze upon her, his eyes narrowed in a threatening glare. "And I will."

Then she was being pulled forcefully through the halls, towards the room Mana had retired to only moments ago. Chizuru was barely able to register what was happening when she instinctively pulled herself away, horrid memories and a sense of deja vu overcoming her. Kenji, caught off guard, released her. He met her eyes and their gaze held for a moment, the silence conveying what words could never achieve. Such moments as these, where the strangest gestures and lack of verbal conflict were present, were the most important. Both failed to realize it.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Chizuru spat, shattering the false calm. Kenji's mask slipped and vanished. He blinked at her, unable to answer her question. He was just as shocked with himself. Even as he attempted to be himself, to banish her fears and confusion, he could see that she had started to shiver. He had just realized why she was so nervous; the traumatic effects of the abuse she had felt over the years - abuse caused by men dragging her unwillingly into their own rooms - had left her motionless and afraid. Immediately regretting his actions, Kenji rose a hand to comfort her. As soon as his fingers neared her face in an attempt to brush her cheek, Chizuru shied away, attempting to shake off the horror as she glared at him. "I-I don't understand you," she croaked finally, sliding along the wall in order to place more distance between them. "You're always changing."

"Don't run," he suddenly began, stepping towards her, closing the distance she had worked to create. He placed a hand on her shoulder - her body immediately stiffened, tense under his hand - as he tried to improvise, to banish her worries. "Please don't."

"Why did you just _do_ that?" she half-snapped. Kenji blinked, unaware of the meaning behind her words. Why had he just...? Was it because he had only recently acted horridly towards her? Feeling anger directed towards himself well upon within him, Kenji placed his other hand on her other shoulder, drawing her into something of an embrace. She shoved away from him. "How could you hurt your family like that?"

She hadn't been angry with his behavior, but with his actions toward his family. Kenji felt relieved, but the burden of his actions immediately covered it and replaced it with a more immense guilt. A defensive wall shoved away all reasons for regret. "You don't know how long I've felt like nothing, living under my father's shadow," he hissed. Chizuru glared at him, nowhere near wavered. "Why can't you understand? I wanted strength. I wanted something people would look at _me _for, not my father!"

"Why can't _you _understand?" Chizuru returned lividly. "You have a _family!_ You have people to care for... people who care for you! Why can't you be happy?" She turned away, rubbing her eyes feverishly. She was crying, and although he couldn't see her tears clearly in the darkness, the knowledge of her sadness was like a physical blow. Kenji was silent, numb, unable to speak. When Chizuru continued, her voice was somewhat garbled with her tears. "E-even your mother... how can you be unhappy when you've got so much warmth and love around you? How can you be so _selfish_?"

"Warmth?" he snapped. "Love?" A disgusted laugh escaped him. "You don't know anything about my family. They're all living under a false peace... under the belief that they can protect me..." He was enraged, failing to realize that he would wound her again and again without fail. "But they can't realize that I don't want that!"

Chizuru was painfully silent for a moment. Even a whimper would be comforting; it would tell Kenji her emotions. When she spoke, her voice was too flat for emotion, "You _are_ selfish. Has your father ever beaten you?" The question opened one of her own wounds, but she felt that the situation called for it. "Has he forced you to hurt others... to kill your own family?" The implications behind her words left Kenji stunned. Had she been forced to...? Even through the darkness, Chizuru could see his shock. Her gaze fell to the floor. She looked wounded, vulnerable, exhausted. Kenji restrained the urge to fully embrace her, to comfort her and chase away the horrible memories. He would never be able to do so. Chizuru studied him for what seemed like an eternity, then straightened herself up.

"Your family is fine," she said bitterly. "It's you that's disgusting." Then she turned, sliding open the door silently. If Mana's previous behavior had meant anything, she would be asleep by now. As Kenji watched Chizuru step into the room, he realized that he had failed in so many ways already, and he was about to do so again. His hand reached out and grabbed hers - gently, in sharp contrast to his previous behavior and current inner turmoil - and as she was about to protest, he pulled her into an embrace. Chizuru immediately froze, her words failing to leave her mouth coherently. The darkened hall was silent, still. Chizuru slowly relaxed, but she made no move to return said embrace. Kenji noticed this, but he made no move to pull away; never before had he hugged someone with such unexpected results. He was hesitant, nervous, unsure... but at the same time, he was confident and even happy.

"Please let go," Chizuru murmured, shattering though his thoughts and leaving him painfully aware of his mistakes. Kenji nonetheless held fast; if he made his slowly developing emotions clear, she may have--

"Let go."

...or not.

Kenji reluctantly released Chizuru, and through the darkness, he could see her emotions written clearly on her face: she herself was unsure, apprehensive. But the shadows in her eyes held something he doubted he would ever know. A part of her mind had reserved a place completely for fear, leaving no room for reciprocating emotions. She brushed her hair out of her face, all the while trying to keep her eyes fixed on him.

"Like I said," she began, "I don't get you. I-I've just lectured you, and now you... what do you want?" She had already withdrawn half-way into her room, hiding amongst the shadows. Kenji did not answer; he hoped the mixture of confusion and confidence in his eyes made his emotions somewhat clear. It was only when he heard the snap of wood against wood that he realized Chizuru had closed the door on him. He released a sigh - he hadn't known he'd been holding his breath - and turned to his own room.

_'What do you want?'_

As Kenji changed into a sleeping yukata, he wondered if he hadn't made himself clear. What didshe mean? Was Chizuru giving him a choice? If so, what were the options? The first he could think of were her and his family. The young Himura pressed his palm to his forehead, easily racing through the possibilities: right now, he wanted to be with Chizuru, to care for her and protect her. He wanted her to smile for him, as she had done rarely; he wanted to shield her from those that would do her harm. Kenji could have laughed at the irony. In the end, he would be the one to wound her the most. He had already decided that no one else would.

And, to insure that no one else would be hurt, he had left his family.

It was the only thing he could have done.

xXx

"Yamanako Jiro," Tsutomu began as he leaned against the opposite wall, studying the bound man. Due to complications that had arisen the previous day - Midori had taken a trip to the clinic due to minor stomach pains and nausea - Tsutomu had been unable to question the assaulter. Frankly, he thought it could wait; thugs like this appeared all over the place. The only interesting thing about this man was the murder it so closely followed. The young woman - Tsutomu had let her off the hook without getting her name, but it didn't really matter - had reported a rotting stench, and after following it, the young policeman had found the remains of another man. The most morbid thing about the crime was the method in which it was accomplished; the large man's face had been completely crushed in. Such a murder wasn't in the ordinary line of mugging, and in order to insure that it wouldn't happen again, the murderer needed to be found. He spoke the man's name a second time, then a third, and finally the criminal seemed to notice that he was being addressed.

"What?" he spat angrily. Waking up in a cell with a badly mangled arm tended to thin one's patience. "That's not even my name."

Tsutomu rose an eyebrow; this was news to him. "Then what is it?"

"Why the hell would I tell a policeman?" the bulky man questioned, spitting rudely. Tsutomu felt a sneer curl his lips. He slowly unsheathed the katana at his side - the one that had nearly torn off this man's arm - and slid it through the bars, tapping it lazily against the prisoner's cheek. The nameless man immediately stiffened, silent.

"You may say I'm a favored member of the police," Tsutomu drawled, enjoying the look of mild horror on his victim's face. "My father is a valued member of the police. I'm sure the higher-ups can overlook one or two dead criminals." With a flick of his wrist, Tsutomu pressed the blade into the assaulter's cheek, drawing a thin line of blood. "You will talk. If you don't, I'll rip your mouth out. Then you'll never speak again."

"I-Ikehara Kazu," he croaked immediately. Tsutomu's sneer widened. Prisoner's were so much easier to interrogate when the paperwork was overlooked, the formalities dropped in favor of a naked blade.

"Ikehara-san," the young policeman began, drawing the blade away and resting it on the bars, temporarily removing the threat but making it clear that it was still available. "What was your relationship with the girl you assaulted?" If his gut sense was right - it very often was - the girl in question had done more then lied about her assaulter's name.

"I was sent to kill her."

"You weren't her lover, then."

"What?" A disbelieving snort followed the word. "That little bitch? No, but I've heard of other men who've..."

"Other men?" Tsutomu's sneer vanished temporarily, replaced by confusion. The young woman he had met earlier did not have the stained energy of a harlot. Tsutomu had inherited his father's skills for reading energy and the like; he wasn't one to be easily fooled. Only veteran warriors were able to mask their ki in such a way. "The girl was a prostitute?"

"Not a willing one," Kazu said casually, attempting to drive away the fear that had been born from the katana Tsutomu had pointed at him. "But a whore all the same."

"She was raped, then," Tsutomu murmured, somewhat relieved to know that a person like her wouldn't have willingly involved herself in such things. On the other hand, this knowledge only furthered his feeling of responsibility. He could never catch and dispose of all the criminals in Kyoto, in Japan... their sins were born from the sins of others. It was an endless cycle, one that could not be destroyed by killing the vessels. Despite all these facts, Tsutomu could not deny that he wanted to help. He turned his mind back to the man in front of him. "You were sent to kill her, you say. Give me details."

"Details?" he asked dumbly. Tsutomu felt his patience thin considerably.

"Who sent you? How much power does your employer have, and how many more men?" Kazu immediately went still, tight-lipped, refusing to speak. Tsutomu narrowed his eyes angrily, reflecting his urge to ruthlessly slam the information out of the stupid prisoner. His mother's patience held him back, however; he remembered watching his father question suspects many a time. Saitou Hajime had never once shouted. "I still stand by my previous threat," he offered lazily, to which Kazu flinched and struggled with himself.

"He'll kill me if I say," Kazu croaked, a pleading look in his eyes. "He'll kill me. He will."

"If you remain here, the only one capable of hurting you will be me," Tsutomu said lazily, a wolfish grin spreading on his face. "As long as you remain useful and your information proves to be accurate, you will be guaranteed safety." Kazu fell silent, mulling over the options.

"His name... is Akiro," Kazu began, quite obviously struggling with himself. Tsutomu watched him with rapt interest; what kind of man could inflict such horror upon his men that it was against their base instincts to speak of him unbidden?

"His family name?"

"Don't know," Kazu answered. "None of us know about his last name."

"Fine, then," the policeman snapped irritably. "Give me his characteristics." In the worst case scenario, this Akiro was of average height with dark eyes and hair, accompanied by olive skin. The typical Japanese man; the worst case scenario was very, very likely. And much to his chagrin, these were very much akin to the details the prisoner named. The only obvious difference rested in a tattoo, Kazu said; one on his head, covered by his hair but reaching down to the base of his skull. The image was unknown. All Kazu knew was that there was indeed a tattoo. According to him, Akiro was not young, but not old; his age ranged around mid-thirties to forties. The group he commanded was relatively small.

"Does he have any living relations?" Tsutomu questioned, wearisome and ready to leave. Kazu fell silent again, as if seized by fear; upon recognizing this behavior from earlier, the young policeman realized that there was something a bit deeper to this story, something foul and untouched. Eager, Tsutomu pressed him harder. "Relations, Ikehara-san."

"He has a brother."

"The name...?"

Kazu's eyes were wide with fear, a sharp contrast to the smug criminal that had been awaiting questioning earlier. His hands, bound and unable to reach each other, merely clenched and unclenched nervously. It was the same type of fear that had come with confessing Akiro's name, but it had been multiplied greatly. Tsutomu was about to draw his katana and make it clear that he was the one to be feared, not some criminal relation who failed to be in the general vicinity of the station. A murmur came from the cell, stopping the young man; he asked Kazu to repeat, louder. The silence in the cell was deafening.

"...Kohaku."

xXx

Kaoru drifted to sleep alone that night, her arms tucked under her head to preoccupy them from realizing the gaping hole in front of her. Kenshin would most likely spend the night with his master, _Shishou_; he wanted to catch up on old times, even if they had been hellish. She allowed herself an indignant snort, blowing her bangs out of her face. But as she slowly dozed, she thought of yet another emptiness; Kenji had just disowned his entire family. He no longer considered himself part of Kenshin's house. The glaring truth was like a barb, but Kaoru tried to ignore it. He was growing up. If she wasn't careful, she would end up smothering him.

_'He's my son!' _an angrier side of her raged. _'I have every right to watch him grow up!'_

As quickly as Kaoru caught herself thinking this, she hushed the angry woman within her; she would tell herself that in order to grow up, Kenji needed time away from his family. Kenshin had spent so many years without a family, and upon meeting him, Kaoru had noticed the immense gap in their maturity levels. True, he was eleven years older than her - Kaoru hated thinking badly of their ages - but if she had never met him, she wouldn't have realized her own immaturity.

Parents were parents until their children needed to be on their own. After that, they were spectators. But Kaoru was hit with the painful loneliness of the truth: There were many parents who were denied even watching. Kaoru was one of those. So was Kenshin. All she could have hoped to do was to wait as her son taught himself. Waiting in itself was a lesson to be learned, a battle of sorts... Kaoru shook her head, trying to rid herself of the metaphor. She was a fighter - she had always been and she always would be - but she didn't want the coils of battle to snare her children, to watch as they were slowly strangled beneath their own rage. If waiting was a battle, then why couldn't everything else be? Kaoru gripped her head, shaking it in an attempt to clear her mind. Her thoughts were scrambled, her senses dulled from confusion. In an attempt to reassure herself, she had muddled her mind.

"Mother?"

Kaoru's eyes blinked open; she sat up, glad to have something to distract her. Ai stood in the moonlight, silently closing the door behind her. Kaoru allowed herself a bit of motherly pride. Ai had always been beautiful. She always would be, but because of her naturally quiet personality, she would be overlooked. People like Myogin Shinya, people who could see the true beauty of someone like Ai, were blessed.

"Yes, Ai-chan?" she murmured, gesturing for her daughter to sit next to her. Ai did as she was offered, wrapping her arms around her mother in a surprising gesture of affection. Kaoru returned the hug, brushing her fingers through her daughter's ebony hair. "What is it?"

"I... I don't know," she replied, ashamed. "I just wanted to sit with you. Is that...?"

"That's fine," Kaoru said, smiling. A ghost of a smile traced across Ai's features, but they were immediately replaced by a burdening doubt. Kaoru watched her daughter for a moment, then gently kissed Ai on the head. "Are you sure everything is all right?"

"Kenji-nii..." Ai murmured in reply, her violet eyes shining with unshed tears. "When he came by today, I was so sure he would... I mean, I had hoped he'd come back to us..."

"Ai-chan," Kaoru began, attempting to piece a comforting sentence together, "hope... it's a double-edged sword." Kaoru paused at her own thought, voiced so suddenly it seemed unclear. Ai merely waited for a response. "It feels good to hope, but if that hope is crushed... it leaves you feeling miserable. Right?" Ai nodded, and Kaoru, feeling a bit more bold, continued. "I tried not to hope too much, because Kenji is Kenji. We can't change him because we want to keep him close. But when he said he was leaving, I felt a little sad." She sighed. This wasn't really going in the direction she had intended; rather, she felt as if she were a false preacher.

"Please keep going, Mother," Ai asked. Kaoru paused for a moment, trying to pick up on her train of thought, then forged ahead.

"If we're lucky, our hopes won't be completely crushed," she said. "Kenji will come back. We have to have faith in him, to believe that he can mature and realize that we love him for who he is, regardless of his faults. Just because he's left once doesn't mean he's gone forever. It's just..." She paused for a moment, thinking of how she had mourned over Kenshin's departure to Kyoto, only to have her childishness thrown in her face by Megumi. "...until we meet again."

"When Kenji-nii said he was no longer a part of the family," Ai confessed, "I thought you would surely cry. I'm so sorry..." Kaoru, however, grinned and ruffled her daughter's hair.

"I wanted to cry," she said. "I did. But I've cried so many times before over my friends leaving, I don't care to count. I'm a very _slow _learner, Ai-chan. I've only come to realize that when you care very much about someone, odds are that they will care for you in return. A bit of you will always be with them," she allowed her daughter to slip under the thick blanket of the futon with her, patting her head comfortingly, "and a bit of them will always be with you."

"Thank you," Ai murmured as she buried her face into her mother's welcoming embrace, "Mommy..." And, drugged by the assurance that Kenji's farewell was nothing permanent, she quickly fell asleep. Kaoru watched as peace overcame her daughter, then closed her own eyes, feeling as if she had just learned something as well.

xXx

_He sat in his mother's comforting embrace, running his hands through her beautiful, exotic hair in wonder. Soft murmurs came from the woman, accompanied by her eternal smile; unlike his father's, hers was genuine, something to be treasured every moment it was there. Kohaku smiled as she ran her own hands through his hair, laughing playfully as she matched one of hers to his own. _

_"Exactly the same," she would say, green eyes glistening. "But yours doesn't behave at all, does it?" Despite numerous attempts on her part, she could not get Yousaku's hair to lie down. His father didn't mind; he merely watched, content with the home and family he had found. Yousaku could never remember his father asking his mother for anything of value. He wanted no money, no heirlooms, just the love she had already given him. After that, she had given him something else to rejoice over: a son._

_Yousaku had heard horrid words spoken about his mother and father: they were unlawful, they had not been granted their parents blessing. Because of this, they had eloped. Technically they were married, but to society, they were not meant to be together. Yousaku had been called "bastard" many a time by those who thought so. When he had innocently questioned his mother about this, she would envelope him in another one of her loving embraces, words forgotten. He would be reassured, content; but at the same time, he knew his mother was miserable. _

_His father had been a wanderer, a rurouni. He had just appeared one day, carrying not but a traveling back and the clothes he wore. Yousaku didn't know the story that surrounded his mother and father; neither seemed keen on speaking about it. That was all good and fine with Yousaku, for the child needed only one thing: his family. He could have cared less about their pasts. Although the man was strange, constantly smiling as if by habit, Yousaku loved his father and admired him. Along with his mother, Yousaku's father was the center of his universe. He couldn't imagine a life without either of them._

_His universe had been torn apart all too soon._

_It had been a brief encounter, nothing more; Yousaku had been playing out in the yard when five large, young men in military uniforms approached. For a moment, a terrifying silence had followed - once soldier turned to another, murmuring something inaudible. Then Yousaku's mother had called for him to come inside, and upon realizing that the woman of the house was present, the soldiers fell silent once more. Yousaku was frozen in place. _

_"Yousaku-kun? Yousaku-... oh. Visitors." Something about her tone suggested that she was not pleased; rather, she sounded alarmed. "Yousaku, come here." Yousaku took a few steps towards his mother when one of the soldiers leaped forward, grabbing him by the hair. Yousaku was dragged back, terror welling up within him and hindering his attempts to escape. His mother watched, motionless, terrified. _

_"This is the residence of the Seta family, isn't it?" one soldier questioned. By the way he carried himself, he could be labeled as the leader of the group. Yousaku stiffened, unwilling to speak to these strange intruders. His mother had drawn her mouth into a thin, tight line; the position her son was in banished her from using any sort of attitude with these men. The leading soldier repeated the question a little less formally, "Speak up, bitch. We haven't got all day." Yousaku bit back a cry as his scalp was twisted painfully. _

_"Yes," she said simply, her eyes narrowed angrily. She extended a hand. "You won't learn anything of value with a hostage. Return him to me." The soldiers laughed, and the leader spat on the ground in front of her. _

_"Seize her," he said to two more of his subordinates. Both large men charged her, leaving no room for gentleness; Yousaku watched in horror as his mother was grabbed roughly, refusing to struggle. One of the soldiers took care to press a knife to her throat. "You talk big, woman, but you can't back it up."_

_"I don't need to," she replied bitterly. "I'm asking you to release us. It's for your own good." Once again, the soldiers laughed in her face. The leader roughly surrendered Yousaku to the last two men, strutting forward. Before either had the chance to speak, he slapped the woman across the face roughly. Yousaku cried out, but was silenced once again by a searing pain in his scalp._

_"Can I help you?"_

_The words were so calmly spoken, and yet there was such danger in them that all looked towards the source; Yousaku's mother smiled as her husband entered the yard, taking in the situation with naught but those words. His smile was gone, replaced by a slate. The head soldier immediately drew himself up, looking the other man over. There was no sword. No means of protecting himself. _

_"Seta Sojirou," he barked, drawing his katana, "you're under arrest for your participation in the Juppongatana and your assistance in revolting against the Meiji government." With the formalities out of the way, he charged recklessly forward, his blade aimed for the defenseless man's heart. _

_Within a fraction of a second, his blade met nothing but air. Sojirou stood behind the man who had so foolishly charged him, his hands bare of a weapon. The soldiers and Yousaku gasped; his mother watched with both pride and misery. _

_"I'm sorry," he said airily, grabbing his attacker's arm and twisting it roughly so he could reach the blade. Once he had grasped the hilt, he shoved the soldier down. "I won't be able to come with you. If you leave now, no harm will befall you." He turned to the others. "Release the woman and child. They have nothing to do with this."_

_"Th-they have everything to do with this!" another man shouted, both angry and terrified. "Your whore and child... if you come any closer, we'll kill them!" But even as the sentence was finished, the man cried out in agony. He fell to the ground, unconscious. Sojirou had flipped the katana to the other side in an effort to spare the man, but the raw, red mark on the soldier's unbroken skin suggested serious bruising. Sojirou turned to the other men, flicking the blade in the traditional way of an assassin._

_"Get lost," he ordered, his tone leaving no room for mercy. "You will regret disobeying me."_

_The group of officials looked down at their unfortunate comrade, suddenly far more hesitant despite their apparent advantage. Yousaku watched the silence draw out between the men, tense and unsure. One of the five had been injured, another knocked out completely. Even with hostages, their chances seemed slim. Yousaku's father drew his mouth into a tight, grim line before speeding forward again, his movements barely traceable by the human eye. In the next instant, Yousaku felt the pressure on his scalp vanish. Another anguished cry sounded as his remaining captor was knocked down by the dull edge of the katana. _

_Yousaku watched in awe as his father spun on his heel, his stolen blade making quick work of the fourth man. The last one held his mother in front of him, using her as a shield; Sojirou's mask-like imitation of impassiveness snapped, revealing an uncontrolled rage. His footsteps seemed to slow for but a second as he angled the blade to strike the soldier. A second was enough for the desperate man to slide the knife down to the woman's breast, plunging the blade in deep. Yousaku let out a scream, his father doing likewise, as blood bloomed from the spot the blade had made contact. He watched, helpless and horrified, as his mother fell. The soldier, realizing what he had done and panicking, fled the scene. Sojirou did not follow him._

_"V-Valiha," Yousaku's father croaked, rushing forward and dropping to his knees to cradle the wounded woman. The blade was abandoned, forgotten. Yousaku would not move for fear that if he did, something horrible would occur. He watched as his father murmured comforting assurances, each of which carrying no truth whatsoever. Sojirou turned, his panic covered by urgency. "Yousaku! Get a medic!"_

_"I--"_

_"Now!"_

Yousaku blinked, having been jolted into reality from the horror of his dream; but even as he tried to remember what the nightmare had been of, he found it evading him. Left with a feeling of dread and no way to explain it, the young man ran his hand over his forehead, breathing out slowly in an attempt to calm himself.

"Yousaku."

The young man was so startled by the sound of his own name - for a moment, he thought he was dozing off again - that he immediately tensed, glancing upwards to meet Kohaku's cold eyes. His usual smile returned.

"Yes, Kohaku-sama?"

"You'll be training the Himura boy today," his master said simply, sliding the door open to banish the suffocating darkness of the room. "Basic martial arts, I assume."

"Aww," Yousaku jokingly whined. "No needles today?" Kohaku allowed himself a sneer, for the thought of the young Himura learning such things was indeed an exciting one. That boy had so much potential - and he knew it - that, were his loyalties harnessed, he would become a valuable asset to his organization.

"Don't teach him anything he can use against you," Kohaku clarified. "Not yet."

"Ah," the young man agreed, then began curiously, "have you found out what to do with the fat man?" Kohaku blinked for a moment, running through his latest victims; upon pulling the large man that had very nearly killed his informer, Chizuru, from his mental logs, he sneered wildly. Yousaku's mood only seemed to brighten. "So? How did you kill him?"

"I tried one of Kagami's old techniques," Kohaku said, his eyes narrowing as he relished the memory. "A club-staff to the face. It was very efficient, however..." His morbid joy slowly faded as he began to list the drawbacks. "It leaves large gaps for attacks, and using it on level terrain can be a bit challenging. I caught the oaf by surprise."

"I suppose," Yousaku murmured, thoughtful. "Heavy, long weapons are like that." Kohaku nodded tartly, temporarily putting the weapon from his mind as he focused on more important matters.

"From noon until dusk, then," he ordered, to which his subordinate nodded obediently. As he watched Kohaku leave, Yousaku attempted once more to pick up the pieces of the nightmare, but he failed once again.

xXx

Kenji didn't want to wake up.

Frankly, he didn't care if he slept in all day; it would be a nice change of pace from the epitome of discord that was Chizuru. Thinking of that stupid girl made him think of his dubious actions towards her the earlier night, which led to the obvious question: was he actually thinking of her as a man thought of a woman...?

The immature child inside of Kenji immediately rebelled and he rolled over in the futon, cursing his stupidity. His personality seemed to have divided, and it was now at war with fragments of itself; the young Himura found himself supporting a possible relationship with Chizuru while another part of his mind screamed against it. The former was currently taking the lead. Kenji groaned, rubbing his hands to his head in an attempt to gather the jumbled thoughts and put them back in place. He was being stupid. He was being stupid. He was being--

_'Damn, if hugging her felt that great, I wonder what it would feel like to--'_

Before the separate personality could finish the potentially dirty thought, Kenji plucked the sakabatou, sheath and all, from its resting place and slammed it down on his foot forcefully. Biting back a cry, he managed to sit again._ 'If you,'_ he thought to himself, feeling a bit insane for doing so, _'keep this up, I'll hit myself on the head.'_

_'Hey, you get hurt, too. S'not like I care.'_

_'Why, you--' _Kenji was about to mentally throttle the being when a knock came from the door of his tiny room. Glad for a reason to be rid of his loneliness but still somewhat reluctant to leave, he called, "Who is it?"

"It's Mana," came the cheerful, yet somewhat burdened reply. "Good morning!"

"I'll be out in a minute," he said offhandedly, tossing the sakabatou onto the futon and grabbing his gi. He dressed quickly and pulled his hair up into his regular high pony-tail, then opened the door to greet Mana. She looked refreshed, content; the young Himura was about to allow himself a smile and return her good wishes when he saw her eyes, shadowed and burdened. "Is something wrong?"

Mana blinked, as if shocked to have been so easily found out; she shook her head, closing her eyes and maintaining her smile. Even after all the effort she put into it, her apprehension only became more obvious. Her words sharply contrasted with Kenji's suspicions, "No, I'm fine. You?"

"I'm... fine," Kenji murmured. If Mana felt like lying, it couldn't hurt for him to do the same. He immediately noticed the absence of Chizuru; feeling slightly hesitant, he dared to ask, "Where's Chizuru?"

"She's..." Mana trailed off, then murmured, "...out. She said something about observing the festivities..."

"As if we didn't have enough time to do that at night," Kenji very nearly growled, stopping to reshape his attitude when Mana looked at him nervously. "Sorry. I... I had a bit of a disagreement with her. Last night."

"Ah," Mana replied neutrally. "I see. I think I'll go join her as soon as I'm done with breakfast... oh! The clerk at the front said a friend of yours left you a message." Kenji blinked, unprepared for such a message, but he nodded and they parted ways in the hall. "I'll see you later, Kenji-san!" she said, smiling cheerfully. Kenji smiled waveringly back, then proceeded to the front desk.

"Himura-kun," the weedy man said upon seeing him. "You've got a message..." He beckoned Kenji forward, and the young Himura reluctantly complied. "...from Yousaku-kun." Kenji's eyes widened. The message was delivered verbally - Yousaku was either too lazy to write, cautious, or both - and Kenji took in the information with a bit of irritation. Straightening resolutely, he walked past the clerk and out the door. He repeated the words in his mind: _"Yousaku will be at a his usual meat bun restaurant at noon. He expects you."_

Kenji bit back a grumble, glancing up towards the sun; it was still climbing high into the sky, angled to the east. It would be a few hours before noon, and until then, the young Himura intended on finding Chizuru and confronting her about last night. Finding her would be a bit difficult - the Gion Festival took up a good portion of Kyoto's center - but Kenji had confidence in himself. He had spent so much time around Chizuru, recognizing her presence had grown into something of a second nature. As he wove through the dense crowd, Kenji glanced about, keeping his eyes on the stalls that sold the more feminine things; he could only guess that Chizuru would go to look at a nice kimono, a pretty piece of jewelry. But despite his efforts, he could not locate her near his theorized places; he couldn't feel her presence at all.

"Enjoying the festivities, my foot," he grumbled bitterly, pausing in his search to glare at the man who had caught him talking to himself. "Can I help you?" the words were spoken in a growl, just daring the poor bystander to comment on Kenji's dubious behavior. The unnamed man merely looked away, mumbling under his breath, and left as quickly as he was able. Kenji felt a morbid pride well up within him.

Chizuru was good at hiding - Kenji would grant her that - but she hadn't vanished from Kyoto completely. The young Himura found himself slowly drifting from the center of town; the crowds grew less dense, allowing more room for the views Kyoto was famous for. Kenji allowed himself to take in the traditional atmosphere, to absorb the sight of what would eventually rot. He allowed himself to relax for a moment, seating himself on the start of a wooden stairway. In his mind's eye, a flame-haired assassin ran through the streets, cutting down his intended victims and all who tried to defend them. It was impressive, powerful, wild; Kenji tried to preserve the image, but it quickly faded as his attention was drawn to something else.

The young Himura stood, his legs absentmindedly leading him down an alley. He was no longer searching for Chizuru - he would find her, but for now, he wanted a break - but rather, he was attempting to enjoy himself. It did not come as easily as it should have. Kenji realized (much to his chagrin) that being with Chizuru and Mana made it easier to be happy. It was such a pathetic fact, annoying but sadly true. Despite his constant bickering with Chizuru, he found her presence amusing. Mana served to level the group out; she acted as the peace maker, whether she knew it or not.

Before he knew it, Kenji had walked into a graveyard. He surveyed the scenery with a dull eye, unsure of how to react; would it be polite to pay his respects and leave? He had no one dear resting here. But turning on his heel without a second thought seemed a bit offensive. Kenji allowed a small sigh to escape him; he wouldn't have thought of manners earlier. Just as he was about to go against his instincts and leave, he caught site of a figure in black. Long, brown hair was pulled back with a dark blue ribbon. Kenji silently proceeded, recognizing Chizuru but unwilling to let her be alert of his presence. She was on her knees, her hands held together in prayer; a bundle of flowers sat in front of her selected grave. Next to those was yet another bundle, but this one was wilted, as if it had been placed their days earlier. Chizuru hadn't seen fit to remove them.

Kenji neared her enough to touch her; he placed a hand on her shoulder, feeling her tense immediately underneath him. She managed to retain her composer, however, and he bravely spoke, "I..." Kenji cursed himself. Bravery? He could barely think of what to say!

"Mother, this is Kenji," Chizuru spoke to the grave, her eyes still closed and her hands folded. Kenji's eyes widened as he looked from Chizuru to the grave, realizing the importance of the person beneath the soil. His urge to confront her forcefully vanished, replaced by shame. Before he could apologize for being so intrusive, she continued, "He's egotistical, arrogant, and he's as stubborn as an ass."

"Hey--"

"But..." she trailed off, searching for her own words. "He... he's my friend." Kenji, who had been about to defend himself in the presence of Chizuru's mother, fell silent. She turned to him, her blue eyes searching his own. She was not smiling, but there was no anger. She was trying to gauge his emotions before showing her own. Kenji, uncomfortable under her gaze, looked down. Chizuru stood, patting her dirty knees, and tipped his chin so she could get a clear view of his face. The young Himura attempted to avert his gaze once again, but she managed to catch his eyes.

"I'm... sorry." It was so pathetic, but it seemed to be the right thing to say. Chizuru looked at him quizzically.

"For what?" she asked, quirking an eyebrow. Kenji stared at her for what seemed like an eternity, attempting to make clear her emotions. Her mask betrayed nothing, and, feeling vulnerable, he managed to form more words.

"For scaring you," he began, then hesitantly finished with, "last night." Chizuru's eyes widened slightly, her mouth drawing into a thin line. Her hand did not leave his chin, but she made no move to make any more physical contact. That was perfectly fine with Kenji; a graveyard was one of the less romantic places in Kyoto.

"I'm sorry, too," she murmured, surprising Kenji with a sudden shyness. "I've only ever been difficult for you, and I'm trying to understand your reasons for leaving your family, but I..." She trailed off once again, her brow furrowing as she attempted to put together an honest string of words. "...I can't. I don't know if I ever will."

Kenji allowed his hand to rest on Chizuru's, guiding it up to his cheek; she froze at the gesture, but did not complain. "No, you had every right to be mad with me. You've lost your family, and I..." Why was he swallowing his pride? Ignoring the indignant side of himself, Kenji bit back on his ego. "I've just let mine go. I tried to make you understand, but I shouldn't have. Changing your opinion would be changing you." Now it was Chizuru who lowered her gaze, her confidence replaced by embarrassment. "I'm sorry."

"I said it last night, but I'll say it again," Chizuru muttered, "I don't understand you." The first time she had said it, it had been a barb; now, it was merely an observation. Kenji surprised her by letting go of his hand - she teetered between being relieved and disappointed for a moment - in favor of kneeling in front of her mother's grave. The young Raikoji watched her friend as he prayed silently. He was paying his respects to a woman he had never known. He was paying respects to the woman she had killed. Feeling misery and guilt well up within her, Chizuru clenched her fists; tears welled up in her eyes and she brushed them away feverishly.

"Raikoji-san," Kenji murmured, just barely audible. Chizuru strained to hear him. "Please forgive me for my trespasses against your children, and please..." Did he open his eyes to look at her for a moment, or was that just her imagination? "...Please forgive Chizuru." Said Raikoji's eyes widened as she remembered her confession of murder to Kenji. The tears came, silent but abundant. She turned away, fearing that Kenji would catch her in her moment of weakness. But the young Himura continued in his murmurings to her mother, either unaware or ignoring.

When he had finished - Kenji had seen fit to speak the last of his prayer within his mind - he stood, plucking the water pail Chizuru had brought from its spot on the ground. He studied Chizuru for what seemed like an eternity; she felt exposed, vulnerable. The young Raikoji hurled a glare at him, but he merely smiled. Her anger was empty, a shallow mask. Kenji gently rubbed her shoulder. Chizuru stiffened again, but then relaxed. The comforting side of her friend was rare, but when it made an appearance, she intended to acknowledge it.

"Crying isn't a weakness," he said simply, and she blinked, her eyes still full of unshed tears. A hiccup escaped her, followed by sobs; she stood in his presence, allowing herself to cry until she was finished. Kenji merely stood by, his hand a comfortable reassurance that everything was all right. Once she had composed herself, Chizuru wiped her eyes with her black sleeve, her free hand hesitantly seeking out the one on her shoulder.

"Thank you," she said, her rare, beautiful smile forming. Her tears still hung on her cheeks; her eyes were red and puffy. But she was smiling. Kenji grabbed her hand and, with a final nod of recognition towards her mother's grave, led the young Raikoji from the graveyard.

Had someone seen this sort of thing happen many years ago, before either of the children were born, they would have found it nostalgic. It was nearly the same picture created by Kenshin and Kaoru as they left Tomoe's grave, hand in hand. But even though it was clearly very much like the previous couple, these two had their own unique qualities. No matter the picture they created, they were themselves, their emotional walls torn down for the time being.

The only spectators were a few spirits, unseen by mortals but there nonetheless.

_to be continued..._

_A/N: DUN DUN DUUUUN! So, how many of you think I'm cheap and uncreative for Yousaku's parents? I DO! But seriously, if you've got a problem, try to be somewhat nice/optimistic about it... I'm bashing myself enough for all of you. _

_Those of you who've read fanfictions about Kenshin's own "inner turmoil" might recognize that Kenji is developing his own Battousai personality. xD It's really fun, writing about Kenji's little interactions with himself; he's such a tightwad, but then the chibi-Battousai says something "inappropriate". :P_

_I really enjoy writing Kaoru as a mature - yet still learning - woman. I hope I did her justice, and I hope I can give more examples of her strong will in the future. _

_I really like the graveyard scene, despite using it already to introduce Kaoru to Mana and Chizuru. And for all your crybabies (like me) out there: KENJI IS RIGHT! DON'T BE AFRAID TO CRY A BIT! 8D Don't be spineless, but... y'know? -preaches- But when I was wrapping this scene up, I thought: "Hmm, walking outta the graveyard, hand in hand... omg Kenshin and Kaoru!" So I made a point to illustrate that it seemed the same, but the people were very different. _

_This chapter was so uneventful... I want to write a fight scene. -picks on Chizuru- :D_


	16. Battousai and Rurouni

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin.**

A cloaked, dirty figure picked his way through the dense foliage on the mountainside, his eyes trained on the lightly-trodden path before him. His calloused hands brushed past grass that had long-since overgrown; eyes of a deep blue color flashed briefly as a space in the trees allowed a beam of sunlight to shine down on him. The traveler held a hand over his eyes, squinting momentarily, and released a sigh as he realized where he was heading. A larger gap to his side presented him with a scenic view of the mountains at his side and the cities nestled between them. He was glad he had decided to scale the mountain, rather than going around; it would have taken him much longer, and frankly, he needed rest.

The peaceful silence was shattered as a cry erupted from up the path. The traveler stiffened immediately, his philosophies warring with each other for a moment; deciding that because it was just a bit ahead and he was going in that direction, the man dashed forward at a speed no one would have expected from the common wanderer. The man was sure-footed, silent as he swiftly ran forward; no one would have heard him, unless they had the ear of a trained warrior.

"P-please give it back! I have to get home, my little brother is sick--" The wanderer was able to make out the first fragments of what he supposed was conversation - it hardly seemed civilized enough to be dubbed as such, but he could think of no better word. He neared the scene, crouching low and observing silently. A young woman - one in her late teens, perhaps - was imploring the three men in front of her to return her basket. She'd been hunting, the wanderer thought with mild surprise; traces of dried blood decorated her hands. The three men were impossibly tall, bulky characters with no wit between them (it was something that could be seen by the naked eye, for they conversed between each other in a series of grunts and leery stares at the girl). The wanderer felt mildly irritated. Why was it that every villain had to be at least eight feet tall? Maybe it just seemed that way to the short, good-looking heroes, but-- as the lead of the thugs spoke (amazingly) the man shut off the exasperated observations.

"Nuh-uh, girly," the oaf said, shaking a meaty finger in her face. "You want the meat, you gotta dish out some o' yourself," as he said this, his eyes wandered freely over her; the young woman shied away, all the while attempting to look defiant. The wanderer felt disgust twist his gut; he had seen many crimes committed within his life, but none had been so personally repulsive as sexual harassment. The girl, unwilling to comply with her assaulter's desires, made a grab for the basket only to have it lifted out of her reach. The thug took the opportunity of her closeness to grab at her, chortling as she cried out in repulsion.

"Give it back!" she demanded, her fear very nearly disguised. She could have fooled the wanderer if she hadn't been constantly biting her lip or digging her fingers into the fabric of her work yukata. In return, the thug raised a hand to strike her - the wanderer decided that there was no better time to move than this - and stopped in mid-swing, forcibly halted by the hand of a man much smaller than himself.

"What the hell? Get out o' the way!" he snapped, pulling back to strike again. The wanderer nimbly dodged his fist, pushing the girl aside without worry for her comfort. The young woman scrambled to the side to be met by her remaining assaulters. Well aware of her precarious position, the wanderer ducked beneath another punch and took the opportunity to run forward, burying his fist in the lout's gut. The wanderer had never been particularly muscular himself - he had always counted speed as his strong suit - but the area of impact was protected by naught but a layer of fat. The assaulter fell, and the man turned to the other two; upon seeing how badly their leader had faired, they hesitated. The girl took the moment to bury her teeth into one man's hand - he had been, unfortunately, holding her by the wrist - and he howled out in pain, raising his free hand to hit her as reflex drew his wounded hand back. The wanderer was between the two of them in the blink of an eye, staying the blow and using the opening to drive his fist up under the man's chin. The third and final man gawked, unsure of how to handle the situation; the basic instinct of fight or flee finally took over and he ran, abandoning his comrades. The wanderer turned to the girl, checking her over for injuries. Apart from a slightly bruised wrist and a disheveled, flustered appearance, she seemed fine.

"Thank you," she murmured in awe, bowing low. The wanderer raised a hand to forestall more thanks.

"It was nothing. I just happened to be passing by." He turned to leave, but upon seeing the state of the girl's hard-earned meat - dumped on the ground, soiled and useless - he hesitated. "I didn't save your food, however."

"Oh," she croaked, rushing forward to confirm it; upon finding that the evidence of her hard work was indeed ruined, she wilted in disappointment. "I worked so hard..." she began, looking away to hide her tears. "My little brother needs meat..."

The wanderer fell silent, unsure of how to comfort her; prey seemed plentiful enough, but the means by which the young woman hunted seemed to include a lot of labor. But the thought of this young woman providing for a brother - one that was sickly, wavering between starvation and life - and he thought of his wife and child, who had been in the same situation. He had left them behind to spare them from danger-- the wanderer closed off the thought, unwilling to reminisce. He did, however, decide to pity the girl.

"Young lady," he offered, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder, "would you like to make a deal with me?" The girl looked up at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears. She nodded hesitantly, searching his eyes for an emotion that would pinpoint his desires. Realizing that she was apprehensive about his intentions, the wanderer waved his hand, smiling nervously. "It's nothing questionable, I assure you. I just need directions." To this, the young woman seemed to shrink in relief, nodding vigorously. "You wouldn't happen to know where the nearest town is, would you?"

The young woman smiled and began as if trained to show people around, "Kyoto is just down the mountain, sir." The wanderer laughed, a bit embarrassed by his utter lack of direction. The girl continued, unaware of his sheepishness, "The Gion Festival has also started, so it would be a good idea for you to stick around for a while." To this, the wanderer nodded, a bemused smile showing his consideration. He helped her up.

"In return for your information, I'll help you hunt for more food," he said, and the young woman smiled thankfully. As the two set out to find more food, the girl turned to him.

"I'm sorry, I haven't introduced myself. I am Shizumasa Eiko." She bowed, and he returned the gesture. A silence followed; having expected his name but unwilling to be rude, Eiko waited patiently. When it became obvious that he was not going to introduce himself, she regarded him with a hopeful smile. "You don't happen to have a name, do you?"

"I do," the man said, smiling. "But I'm afraid that's confidential." Upon noticing Eiko's pout, the wanderer's grin broadened. "You may call me Rurouni-san." The young woman nodded, resigned but not entirely disappointed. It was after another moment of silence that Eiko remembered Rurouni-san's speed, his impossible ability to appear between her and her assaulter during the fight. She glanced down at his feet, as if to catch some vital clue as to his speed, but she merely saw dirty appendages wrapped in tattered sandals. Rurouni-san blinked at her questioningly, and she looked away. She felt terribly nosy for having looked in the first place, nosy and stupid. But as the two scouted the foliage for any sort of edible meat, the young woman thought of his speed. It was godlike- no, godlike would have been slower. The man moved as if his feet had been given from the heavens.

_'Heavenly speed,' _she thought, looking down to his feet to see that they had not changed in the least.

xXx

"I'll have three pork buns and two cups of your special tea, Yasu-san," Yousaku said brightly, charming the waitress. The young woman smiled prettily, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she wrote down the orders. Yousaku returned the gesture with his trademark smile; Yasu was kind and willing to be of use to anyone when it came to gathering information, but that was the extent of his feelings for her. For a moment, the young man thought of Mana, and his smile faded slightly.

He was in love with her - he had been for some time now - but he was still hesitant when it came to choosing between Mana and the organization he had worked so long for. Kohaku had given him power; Mana had given him a feeling of belonging. The organization wanted him for the strength they had supplied him with. Mana wanted to be with him because he was Yousaku, the boy she had grown to love despite the unlikely circumstances. He had been her prison-keeper, the ties binding her to Kohaku's plots, and yet, she had somehow changed him. He had been practicing his false smile, the disgusting mask; she had shattered it with a mere request, leaving his emotions open to her.

_"Please stop," _he could remember her saying. And he remembered his own response; he had regarded her with utter confusion, and she had elaborated, _"Please stop lying with your smile. It looks so... lonely."_

Yousaku had spent time with Mana, and within that time, she had managed to treat him as a human being. Never had he felt such tenderness - his mother had been the only other person to open her arms to him, but she was naught but a pleasant, albeit fading memory.

"Yun-san," Yasu chirped, jolting him back to reality; she placed the three promised pork buns and two cups of mint tea before him, eyeing him all the while. "Do you have a guest? I wouldn't mind giving you a free refill, you know," she nodded towards the extra cup and Yousaku shook his head.

"Yes, I have a guest," he said pleasantly. "He should be here in a few minutes." Upon hearing that Yousaku's guest was a male, Yasu's face brightened considerably; she nodded and left to fill out another's orders, promising to be back to check the quality of her food. Yousaku nodded in reply and fell silent, watching the streets for the promised Himura. Upon catching site of the auburn-haired boy, he waved pleasantly. The young Himura glared in response, but came over and sat down nonetheless. Yousaku beamed.

"Hello, Himura-san. How are you?" Kenji's immediate reply was to glare, then sit and wait in silence for further words. "Have you had lunch? I ordered pork buns," he offered the young Himura a piece, but Kenji rejected it with a quick jerk of his chin. Yousaku sighed. "You're a bit standoffish today."

"I'm not some dog you can summon and dismiss," Kenji shot back, clearly irritated. That wasn't the only reason he was angry; every step towards the organization he took, the heavier the pressure on his guilt grew. Leaving Chizuru after their walk back from the cemetery had been aggravating by itself, but when she had innocently questioned his reasons for doing so, he had lied yet again. His mood had only grown worse upon being told by the weedy clerk – a man he found more annoying every time he saw him – that getting too close to his "project", as he had so crudely labeled Chizuru, was unwise. Kenji had been both unnerved and angered by this sentence; if low-rank members such as this slime knew that his friendship with Chizuru was gradually (but hopefully) deepening, the higher-ups were likely to know more.

"That all stands to opinion," Yousaku murmured offhandedly, his eyes abandoning the pork bun in his hand as he looked at Kenji. His green eyes seemed to probe the young Himura's mind, as if detecting his inner struggles and pinning them down for further examination. Kenji shifted slightly in his seat; he glanced to the woman who had suddenly walked up, glad for something to distract him. She was a person of medium height with long, black hair that had been pulled into a low ponytail. Her light-brown eyes were set on a heart-shaped face; her cheekbones were visible, but not dominantly so. Overall, she was quite pretty. But the way she eyed Kenji was somewhat unnerving.

"Is this your friend, Yun-san?" she chirped, beaming towards Kenji. The young Himura returned the gesture at a much less cheerful level; he forced a mechanical smile. The waitress giggled and Kenji felt even more uncomfortable, as if not only his mind but his body, too, was being pinned down and examined.

"Ah, yes," Yousaku said brightly. "This is Ike-san. Ike-san, this is Yasu-san, the owner of this stall. Her food is wonderful," with that, he took another bite of the pork bun as Yasu giggled yet again. Kenji – or Ike, as Yousaku had called him – looked down at his sweaty palms as the waitress proceeded to shamelessly flirt with the two of them. How was it that, when with Chizuru and Mana, he felt much more comfortable? Both would often make random gestures that had been born of habit, but each and every one of Yasu's seemed deliberately planned. Whether Yousaku noticed this or not seemed irrelevant.

"Yo—Yun-san," Kenji stammered, red-faced from Yasu's obvious attempts, "didn't we have a lesson today…?" Yousaku blinked, looking down at Kenji's hardly-finished food; it had been too much of a feat, trying to eat while the waitress, who apparently had no other customers worth her attention and thus had made herself comfortable with them, took every opportunity to brush her fingers over his wrist or to smile disarmingly. Had he less pride, Kenji would have looked at the young man pleadingly. Fortunately, Yousaku seemed to have had enough of Yasu as well.

"I suppose," he said, injecting a fair amount of regret into his voice as he rolled up Kenji's unfinished meal. "We'll take this to go, then. Being seeing you, Yasu-san…" He waved to the young woman, who looked rather sour, and the two young men picked themselves up and made for the street. Once they were out of sight and sound, Kenji allowed himself an exhausted sigh; he had known Ayame and Suzume to playfully flirt with him, but he had never met a girl so eager and brutal when it came to men. Yousaku laughed and Kenji turned to glare at him. The former merely continued to grin. "You aren't very good with women, Himura-san."

"Sorry, _Yun-san,_" Kenji snapped, "but I'd be more than happy if she stuck to hanging on _you._"

"No, thank you," the blonde said cheerfully. "I'm perfectly content with my current partner." Kenji very nearly fell over, and had to hasten to catch up with the young man. He hadn't expected Yousaku to have already found himself a woman. _'Maybe it's a man,' _a snide voice within him said, to which Kenji was caught between laughter and childish embarrassment. He abruptly told it to shut up and went back to his original thoughts: If Yousaku was free to have a lover, then why were people constantly telling Kenji that it was unwise? He then told himself that the possibilities of Yousaku actually caring about this girl were slim. Kenji had noticed it very early on; beneath the pale-haired boy's smile was a void. There was no emotion, nothing to rely on to read his movements.

Kenji was jolted from his thoughts as Yousaku paused at the end of a street, pressing on a wooden door and vanishing behind it. Kenji followed and did likewise, finding himself in something akin to a courtyard. High walls surrounded them, blocking out the possibility of someone climbing over to watch. The yard itself was littered with stones of various sizes, a few being small enough to dismiss but others being as large or larger than Kenji himself. The young Himura stubbed his toe on a small rock jutting out from the ground and bit back a hiss; if Yousaku noticed, he made no move to acknowledge it.

All was painfully silent for a moment – even the birds seemed to grow quiet, the crowds from outside seemed significantly muffled – and just as Kenji was about to open his mouth and speak, Yousaku turned swiftly, his smile gone. Kenji fell to his knees on pure instinct and was well rewarded for his actions. Something whistled overhead, flashing briefly in the sunlight before vanishing. Needles. Kenji grabbed the sakabatou and positioned himself immediately, watching his sudden adversary with surprise. Yousaku dove towards him, more needles at the ready; Kenji was hard-pressed to avoid them as they flew by his arm. Two needles made contact, one slashing through the material of his sleeve as another bit into his flesh. Kenji tensed for a split second before jumping to the side, flexing his fingers as he did so. His arm was not immobilized.

Kenji's pause cost him dearly; Yousaku was suddenly inches away from him, a katana drawn. Before he could react, his adversary had flipped the blade and slammed it into his midsection, sending him backwards. Kenji coughed raggedly, his stomach burning in pain as he struggled to force himself into action. With his reactions even more sluggish than before, Yousaku found him easy prey. He had once again closed the distance between them and now sat at an almost lazy crouch, a needle pressed against Kenji's throat. He looked almost disappointed. Kenji felt a sting of pain as the needle in his arm was yanked out. Drawing up to his full height, Yousaku wordlessly left to pick up his remaining needles. Kenji was left sitting on his behind, his throat throbbing from the cold and deadly pressure of the weapon. His mind screamed at him, angry with his body for not having reacted quickly enough.

"Here."

Kenji was caught off-guard yet again as a hand was held out before him; he ignored the kind gesture and pulled himself up. Yousaku said nothing, showed no further emotion, and pocketed his needles wordlessly. Kenji fought against his rage silently and very nearly worthlessly.

"Because you have no projectile weapons," the young man said almost casually, "we will spar with the katana. Eventually, I may teach you how to use needles." The hairs on the back of Kenji's neck rose, the thought of using Yousaku's means to fight disturbing him. Yousaku turned on him again, this time with his katana prepared, and charged the young Himura. Kenji was prepared this time and managed to knock the blow away, his anger at being so easily defeated earlier working as an advantage.

They sparred wordlessly, each one working to outdo the other. Yousaku's movements were precise, fluid, and Kenji found himself hard-pressed to keep up. Eventually, however, he managed to slip into a speed and strength that suited his endurance and matched his adversary's. He no longer noticed the burn in his limbs, the heavy beating of his pulse, or the sweat on his brow. All he could see consisted of the blade before him and the torso of its owner, the former being the major cause of danger and the latter giving hints to the blade's path. Kenji found himself teetering perilously between peace and excitement. Each move was unexpected, unknown; but each time such an attack came, Kenji's blood surged and his body moved fluidly, blocking the assault but failing to create a gap and return the blow. For what seemed like hours – but could have very well been minutes – they fought as if in an elaborate dance.

The sounds of battle immediately ceased after a resounding, metallic clang rang through the walls of the courtyard. Kenji and Yousaku were locked in their respective stances, their blades biting into each other. Both could hear sounds, could tell from this evidence that the fight was far from over, but a passerby would have to be a foot away to realize it. The grating of steel, the stolen gasps as exhaustion slowly over came the two; as they each held their position, both young men mentally acknowledged the other. As sweat slowly dripped into their eyes and mouths, they slowly drew away from each other. Kenji remained where he stood, prepared to continue the fight, but Yousaku slid the katana back into its sheath, raising his free hand to wipe his brow.

"Truly his son," he murmured suddenly, and Kenji stiffened. Being compared to Kenshin would forever be a source of discomfort. But just as he was about to protest, Yousaku continued, "Truly the Battousai's son." The young Himura fell silent, his eyes widening. For so long, he had had been compared to the Rurouni. Being told that he was the Battousai's son – not just that, his _heir_ – was strangely invigorating. Kenji felt a wild happiness spread through him; apparently he had not thought to conceal it, for Yousaku's eyes flashed as he looked at the young man, and he added another, "Truly."

"Is this some sort of practice?" Kenji asked, attempting to conceal his sudden excitement. He sheathed the sakabatou, gesturing to their surroundings with his free hand. "This… a test?" His eyes flickered with a sudden suspicion. "Am I suddenly expendable?"

"You've always been expendable, Himura-san," Yousaku said lightly, to which Kenji's brow furrowed in a glare. "No, just lately you've become _valuable_. Chizuru-san and Mana-san trust you, and you've only started to gather information from them. And with your rapidly growing talent…" Kenji looked to the ground, unsure of how to properly respond to the sudden praise, "…you could become very, very useful to Kohaku-sama."

"I don't plan on working for you forever," Kenji replied quickly, a bit too much so. Yousaku cocked his head, studying the other boy as if his words were utterly unimaginable. "I… I'm doing this for myself. I want to be strong."

"I think you should consider staying permanently, Himura-san," Yousaku said simply. "This may seem mutinous, but Kohaku-sama isn't going to live forever. He would want an heir." The information carried an immense weight, but Kenji did not find it tempting. To be associated with Kohaku's organization was bad enough; the mere thought of one day controlling it was very near nauseating. Apparently, Yousaku saw this. "You _are _strange."

"Why don't you want to be a candidate, then?" Kenji snapped, defensive. For a moment, Yousaku's eyes widened, his lips parted slightly in a futile attempt to form words; Kenji was surprised that he had managed to stun him with such a simple question. He watched as his adversary's face fell into an impassive mask. Yousaku's words seemed to contradict his suggestions towards Kenji to the point of being hypocritical. A silence stretched between them; one boy was waiting for the other to speak.

Yousaku took a step forward and Kenji felt his hand twitch, instinctive, eager to use the advancement as an excuse to continue the fight. But as the blonde boy walked past him, he realized that the moment would not come; not today. He waited for a tense moment as Yousaku opened the door they had entered previously and closed it behind him, silently excusing himself. Kenji stood in solitude; now that his rival had gone, the noises of everyday life seemed to return. Birds flew overhead, calling out; the sounds of people bustling about their mundane lives leaked through the stone walls; a stray wind dipped into the courtyard, whistling past the diagonal sides of the roof. The fight may have not happened. The only evidence supporting it was the slowly spreading ache in Kenji's muscles, the raw feeling of his palms from clenching the sakabatou so tightly.

_'Truly the Battousai's son.'_

And, feeling elated, Kenji followed Yousaku's lead and abandoned the courtyard.

xXx

Chizuru poked a finger into the small glass bowl, testing the temperature of the water; it was, as to be expected, lukewarm. Koi, the fish she had won at the festival, cowered at the bottom of the bowl. She cocked an eyebrow at the fish, indignant.

"I'm not that scary," she said, glowering at the fish. The small creature couldn't understand the difference between her passive attitude and her anger, thus wisely choosing to remain silent. Then again, fish never were noisy animals. Chizuru liked that about them. Truthfully, she had expected the poor thing to go belly-up some time ago, but apparently, Mana had taken it into her hands to tend to him. Making a note to thank her sister for her kindness, the young Raikoji drew her finger from the bowl and gazed out the window. The scenic view did nothing to improve her dull outlook of the day. When she poked her head out the door, she often found herself disappointed; Kenji had left about an hour ago. The disappointment stemmed from two causes: the first being that he had left without a plausible explanation and the second being that she cared at all.

In a desperate attempt to find something to do with her time, Chizuru had toured the busier streets of Kyoto. The constant feeling of being watched – a feeling that had never really faded after so many years of being stalked, of being hunted – kept forcing her to glance over her shoulder, to let her gaze linger on the shadowy areas. She didn't like being paranoid, but her mind unconsciously put her on the defensive. Every passerby that happened to bump into her jolted her, every man that looked at her a little too long… these all seemed capable of working for Kohaku. This sudden fear, coupled with the fact that heat was coming off the pavement in waves, drove Chizuru to take the refuge the inn provided.

Another thing that irked Chizuru was that she was alone in her boredom; Mana was in her element, busily cleaning and organizing the few packages they owned. She was currently cleaning the floor, humming cheerfully as she went. Chizuru suppressed a groan. She should have been happy for her sister, but the unbearable heat, the lack of anything to do… it was mind-numbing. An abrupt pause in Mana's humming barely registered. It was only when Chizuru's sister approached her, a thick, floppy package in hand, that she took notice.

"Did you get this?" Mana asked, confusion written on her features. Chizuru leaned forward, identifying it, and shook her head. It was neatly wrapped – probably by a store owner who had been under the impression that it was a gift – and when she took it in her hands and gave it a small squeeze, she felt the material beneath. It was nothing stiff. Mana crossed her arms, perplexed. "I didn't get it."

"Maybe it's Kenji's," Chizuru said listlessly, putting the package down and resuming her dull sightseeing. But just as she dropped the package, an unexplainable curiosity flooded her mind. She snatched it back up, feeling it again, folding it despite the protests of the paper. She checked it for a label and, much to her surprise, found a card tucked into the side. It was nothing mushy, just the traditional to and from (Chizuru was thankful for this). Kenji's name was scrawled untidily under the From section, but the To section was blank. Chizuru deflated a bit.

"Hm," Mana said from behind her, jolting her. "He didn't address it to anyone."

"It's probably for his family," Chizuru said, pressing away the hopes that it may be addressed to her. When Mana opened her mouth to protest, she pressed on, "He must have forgotten it in here." Chizuru watched in mild amusement as her sister attempted to hide her pout. Then she paused to question the truth of her own words and smiled; a trip to visit Kenji's family would be the perfect remedy for her boredom. Thinking of the unnecessary affection she had received made the choice all the easier; plucking up the package, Chizuru stood. "D'you want to come with me?"

"With you?" Mana questioned. "What do you—"

"I was thinking of going to visit the Aoi-ya," Chizuru interjected. She waved the package, glad for the excuse. "I thought I'd drop this off." Mana considered it for a moment, then smiled and nodded, placing the broom in the corner and discarding the apron she had donned earlier. Glad that her sister had joined her, Chizuru slid the shoji door open and stepped out into the hall. Mana followed.

It was a hot day, as the people of Kyoto were beginning to expect it to be. What made the heat worse was the humidity; Chizuru fanned herself often as she and her sister picked their way through the crowds, both unwilling to make contact with a very likely sweaty passerby. Chizuru suddenly found herself panicking, wondering if she would get the two of them lost. Her long brown hair swung from side to side as she stood on her tip-toes, looking over the few heads she could top in an attempt to locate the inn. After wandering for about half an hour, spotting landmarks they had noticed on the way to the Aoi-ya and hesitantly following them, Mana grabbed Chizuru's sleeve and pointed. The Aoi-ya could not be clearly seen, but the unmistakable form of the small woman standing outside it marked the inn. Upon seeing them, Misao grinned and waved a hand cheerfully. Chizuru felt her boredom lift at the mere sight of the excitable woman.

"Hello!" she cried, beaming as she strode over to them. Chizuru immediately noted the vast difference in their height; the irony of it all was that the ninja was on the short end. Misao, however, did not notice this. The sisters bowed slightly and voiced their greeting in return. Misao chatted speedily as she led them through the halls of the inn, not bothering to pause and ask why they were there in the first place. "How have you two been? We're doing fine – Kaoru-san and Rei-chan are almost completely healed, so that's a weight off my mind – Aoko's been missing you two, he keeps asking, 'When is nee-san coming back?' I've never seen him so excited about people he's just met…" Chizuru grinned at Mana as they were led to the back yard, where the Himura and Shinomori families had found refuge from the excitement the Gion Festival introduced.

Among these people, Chizuru quickly noticed, sat Himura Kenshin. He smiled placidly; Chizuru felt her mind spin as she instinctively remembered the number of people he had killed, the names of the people the assassin had butchered. She stole a glance, noting his relaxed posture, his gentle features; this did not seem to be the type of man who could kill so many. But as she allowed her glance to linger into something of a rude stare, she realized that his violet eyes held pain – concealed, yes, but pain nonetheless – and his kind smile held a tinge of sadness. Before she could look away, the former assassin nodded his head respectfully, his smile becoming a fraction more genuine.

"You must be Chizuru-dono," he said. Chizuru was surprised by his respectful dialogue, by the use of the "dono" at the end of her name. Had anyone ever addressed her so humbly? Kenji had used "san" for a while, but after a bit of negotiating, he had dropped the honorific altogether. This, Chizuru noted, was only the tip of the iceberg that embodied the gap between Kenji and his father. Before her pause could be allowed to turn into a silence, she nodded in return.

"You must be Kenshin-san," she murmured. The introduction gave her an excuse to look at Kenshin's face; the infamous golden eyes of the manslayer were nowhere to be seen. Just, as she had noted before, a pretty, albeit somewhat gloomy violet. Age had been kind to Himura Kenshin, as it had been to many around him; Chizuru could easily detect a spark of youth within Kaoru and most definitely Misao. Aoshi… had he ever been youthful? A smile tugged at Chizuru's lips, but she suppressed it and looked away from the former manslayer, turning her attention to Aoko. The young Shinomori had crossed the yard while she exchanged introductions and was now tugging at her sleeve. Chizuru offered the child a shaky smile before joining him, taking care not to look back at Kenshin.

Chizuru watched as Aoko spun a paper ball on his finger with exceptional mastery then clapped with a sense of false cheerfulness when he tossed it into the air and caught it. The loving atmosphere of the inn suddenly seemed dampened, as if a muffler had been placed over the group. Chizuru found herself wondering, absentmindedly, where Kenji was and what he was doing. Then she mentally scolded herself; since when had thinking of the young Himura become a habit? But even as she rebelled against her own mind, she caught herself thinking of the night on Hiko's mountain. When he had tended to her ankle, his hands had been fluid, precise. Despite being slight, he was strong, and despite being strong, he was gentle. It was a strange combination to throw together.

"I hear you're friends with Kenji," Kenshin said suddenly, and, feeling that she had been caught in the act of thinking of the Battousai's son a bit too fondly, Chizuru stiffened. Aoko fell silent, pouting slightly, but she took no notice of his disappointment. Kenshin merely stared at her, and she back at him; the yard had fallen silent in the presence of his innocent remark. Kaoru, who was sitting next to Kenshin while absentmindedly combing Ai's hair, smiled knowingly. Chizuru felt her cheeks grow hot against her will and she looked back to Aoko, ruffling his hair in an effort to avert the former Battousai's eyes.

"Kind of," she muttered. When the silence stretched, she continued, "I mean, yes… we're traveling companions." Then her mouth was running away with her, spouting useless and borderline rude things, "Kenshin-san, about Kenji… I mean, I didn't want him to leave your family, I… I'm sorry," she finished lamely. Kenshin said nothing, and for a moment, the young Raikoji bitterly thought that he was spiting her.

"Kenji is Kenji," Kenshin said quite suddenly, and although it seemed off-topic, he continued as though he considered himself perfectly understandable. "At home, he considered himself something of a specimen. No one looked at him for himself. They saw me… the Battousai," Kaoru's eyes widened as he said the last bit, and she turned to glance at him. Kenshin nodded as they shared a silent conversation. Chizuru herself was a bit surprised; this man had easily given away his identity, one that could cause a great deal of grief, were it thrown around so easily.

"I suppose that name comes in handy," she said suddenly, remembering the grief her father had given her mother over the icons of the war. Men like Himura Kenshin had given her father something to write, something horrible to teach his children. It was because of the Battousai and his kin that Chizuru's father had become twisted; it was because of them that he had given her a knife and ordered her to murder her own mother with it. And upon remembering the feeling of the knife against her fingers, the feeling of blood on her hands, she added, "But it hurts more than helps."

Kenshin's eyes widened slightly as he was met by the brute force of Chizuru's honesty. For a moment, blue eyes met violet, determination met surprise, and then the young Raikoji looked away. Chizuru made it a point to keep her eyes trained on Aoko as he handed her a second paper ball. She played for a moment, her face a listless mask. Internally, she felt as though she was being crushed by the silence Kenshin projected. Aoko immediately realized that her attention was not entirely focused on his progress with the paper ball, and, eager to win it back, he climbed onto her lap and allowed her to absentmindedly comb her fingers through his hair. Chizuru listened as Mana exchanged polite greetings with Kenshin, tense. How could she be so forgiving?

"My sister had something she needed to give you," Mana said suddenly, and Chizuru accidently plucked a hair from Aoko's head. The little boy, determined to be manly, did not even whimper. Murmuring a silent apology to Aoko, Chizuru nodded and reached into her yukata's sleeve, pulling out the package and handing it to Kaoru. Kaoru stared at the label professing Kenji as the giver then slowly opened the package; Chizuru was hard-pressed not to gasp when the Himura wife pulled out a marvelous kimono.

The kimono was covered with yellow, orange, and blood-red butterflies set over a golden fabric. If one looked closely, one would be able to see the intricately woven blades of grass, each one left colorless but there nonetheless. Kaoru let out a soft gasp as she traced the fabric gently, lifting a sleeve and letting it flutter back down to its original place. Then she stood abruptly and held it up against her, testing the size; Chizuru's awe vanished upon realizing that the gift was a bit too large for Kaoru. Because she was somewhat short and slim (years of kendo training had fought off the leftover fat that came from childbirth) a good length of fabric covered her feet. Chizuru made a note to smack Kenji for getting his mother a present in the wrong size.

"This isn't for me," Kaoru said suddenly, and Chizuru blinked in confusion. Grinning broadly, Kaoru folded the kimono and returned it to the package, plucking yet another from it. This one was a deep blue with pure white petals and sunflowers embroidered into the fabric. While it did not carry the same impact on Chizuru as the last one had, it was beautiful nonetheless. Kaoru tested this one as she had the last one, and, grinning a second time, she folded it and set it back in the package. "Neither is this one. I think Kenji got these for _you._"

Chizuru knew that, much to her chagrin, she had gone pink. "No, Kaoru-san, I'm sure this is for you." But Kaoru only offered a knowing smile in return, and the young Raikoji felt her face heat up even more. "K-Kaoru-san, Kenji doesn't value… I mean, why waste money on me… I'm sure it's for…" But even as she rambled, she unfolded the golden kimono and stood, measuring it. Because she was a bit taller than Kaoru, the fabric fell to her ankles perfectly.

"Kenji must be very fond of you," this time, the embarrassing accusation came from Kenshin. Chizuru folded the fabric hurriedly, stuffing it in the package. Mana was not so quick to wrinkle the blue kimono, but it went into the package eventually. A snide remark from Shinta caught her off guard.

"Aww, our wittle Kenji has a girlfriend," he said deviously, and that was when Chizuru put her foot down. She grabbed the kid by the ponytail and just when she'd brought up her hand to give him a good spanking – she was going to show him how much of a child he was being – she stopped, glancing over to Kaoru. With a blotchy, embarrassed, red face, Chizuru was sure she didn't look entirely threatening. Kaoru merely smiled and waved a hand casually. Shinta gave a cry as he received his spanking.

xXx

"Honestly! I mean, yeah, it's a nice kimono and all, but it probably isn't even meant for me…"

"Chizuru-ne, it fits you perfectly. And the way it goes with your eyes and hair is lovely," Mana said with an air of tried patience. Even she had a limit when it came to things like this, and Chizuru was pushing said limit. After spending a few hours at the Aoi-ya – a few hours spent playing with the children and making every effort to avoid any conversation involving Kenji – Chizuru had suggested they leave. Mana's patience had been stretched like taffy; after a long, long time of putting up with her sister's ramblings, it was beginning to sag in the middle. She smiled to herself, thinking of the thoughtful gifts. The blue kimono had been the exact one she'd been looking at on the night the three had gone out to the Gion Festival, and she couldn't help but bet that the golden one had also been the object of Chizuru's attention. "Once Kenji comes back from running his errands, we'll ask him, okay?"

"No, it's not okay!" Chizuru croaked. "He'll… he'll just deny it, I'm sure! And if they aren't for us – which I'm sure is the case – then he'll just laugh and gloat like he always does…"

"Kenji doesn't really seem the type to gloat," Mana murmured innocently. Upon receiving the brunt of another of her sister's glares, she quickly added, "But I may be wrong. You know him much better than I do." Although this should have remedied the situation, it seemed to have a negative affect on Chizuru. Her face went pink – something that had been happening a lot lately, Mana noted – and she grumbled incoherently under her breath. After a moment of patiently waiting it out, Mana was rewarded with actual words.

"I do _not _know him better than you do, Mana," she mumbled. "We know him just the same. Actually, you've known him longer, so that would mean—"

"No, I'm sure you know Kenji in a different way than I do," Mana interjected, smiling. Chizuru went from pink to beet red and continued stammering. Mana plowed through her objections, "To me, Kenji's just a friend, but to you—"

"Don't _you_ go saying that, too!" Chizuru interjected. "Kaoru-san and the whole Himura family… maybe the Shinomori family, too… they all think something is going on between Kenji and me. We haven't done anything!" she added as Mana grinned knowingly at her. Seeing her sister with such a sly look on her face was unnerving. "He's hardly even a friend," she muttered.

"I don't know about that," Mana mused, her sly grin fading into a thoughtful smile. "He looks at you a lot, Chizuru-ne."

"Yeah, so? I see more of him than I care to, too."

Mana sighed. "Are you really that hopeless, sister?" When Chizuru glared and opened her mouth to protest, she hurriedly continued, "I mean, I don't know much about men myself. But I can tell by watching you two that _something _is going on. Not _that _kind of something," she added upon seeing her sister's indignant face, "but something nonetheless. He looks at you when he thinks no one else is looking at him." For a moment, Chizuru's mouth hung open, fishlike. Then she snapped it shut.

"This is stupid," she suddenly said, quickening her pace. Her thoughts, however, sharply contradicted her words. At the graveyard, Kenji had been so kind. Lately, he seemed self-conscious about anything he did or said. Was he worried that he would make a mistake? The young Raikoji irritably swatted away any tender thoughts towards Kenji, but even as she did so, she noticed that it was much harder than it used to be. "I don't know if I want to go to the festival tonight. I'm tired. Okay?" Mana, who had been planning to go to the festival, shrugged.

"I may go by myself for a while," she said. Chizuru turned for a moment, an unasked question on her tongue; Mana shook her head, smiling in an attempt to reassure her sister. "I'll be fine. I'll make sure to keep an eye out for strangers. Please?" The last word was added when she saw Chizuru's apprehensive expression. For a moment, her sister's deep blue eyes were unsure, afraid; but then she smiled and nodded.

"As long as you're careful, it's fine with me," she said, then turned and opened the door to the Yun-ya. Mana, having been nervous about Chizuru's reply – without even realizing her worry – had not noticed that they'd come so far. She abruptly ran forward and hugged her sister, who muttered gruffly but returned the gesture. She ruffled Mana's hair, grinning; for a moment, Mana felt as though they were children again. Chizuru had unknowingly shown a different kind of love through her small act of trust. "If you're going out, you should wear that kimono," she added, pointing to the blue one. "It would be a sin not to."

"You should wear the one Kenji gave you," Mana ventured, eager to see some sort of reaction. She wanted to help her sister with whatever relationship she had; for so long, Chizuru had been lonely in a way sisterhood could not help. "I'm sure he'd like it."

"Sh'yeah, right," Chizuru muttered. "Like I said, I'm tired. I'm going to bed early today." And with that, she opened the door to their room. She kicked off her shoes and walked over to the corner, pulling out the futon she had folded up earlier and setting it out. "I'll do a few more things in town, but then I'm coming back and getting some shut-eye. Do you want to get changed?" Mana nodded wordlessly, irritated that her sister had so easily changed the subject. Chizuru busied herself with meaningless tasks for a few more moments, dug out her purse from her abandoned rucksack, then headed for the door with a last-minute, "See you in a bit!"

"Bye," Mana muttered, listening as the door slid shut behind her with a snap. She stalked over to the broom she had left in the corner earlier, taking her anger out on the few dust-bunnies and cobwebs remaining in the room. Chizuru had managed to evade any further questions about Kenji. Mana's hands tightened on the broom, her knuckles briefly going white before she sighed and finished sweeping, feeling drained. How much longer would her sister keep beating around the bush? Kenji was a bit more impulsive, but at the same time he remained shy. They were both so oblivious to what was right in front of them, to what was slowly but surely happening.

_'I'll be damned if nothing happens with those two,' _she thought suddenly, then dropped the broom. She couldn't remember the last time she had cursed, inwardly or verbally. When she leaned back down to retrieve the broom, she realized that her pile of dirt had scattered every which way. _'Bother.'_

_to be continued…_

_A/N: GAAAAAAAAAAH I HATE THIS CHAPTER. Too boring for my liking. I'll try to add something interesting in the next one, I swear. D: KenjixChizuru interaction and action! …hopefully._

_I'm also sorry about the delay in parts, but I've run into a bit of writer's block. That, plus my job and school starting soon, makes it hard to write. Thanks to you who've patiently waited and who will keep waiting. _

_Also, this chapter is titled 'Battousai and Rurouni' because Kenji wants to think of his father as the Battousai while Chizuru sees the Rurouni. The boy who has known the peaceful man all his life wants to see the killer, and the girl who has known the killer is surprised when she sees the peaceful father. It's stupid, but thinking of titles can sometimes be the hardest part... _


	17. Bloodhound and Wolf

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin.**

The rurouni stumbled once again as he was jostled by a passerby. His hand instinctively went to his sleeve, where his wallet was being kept, then his bags; nothing had been stolen. Having been wandering in the country for such a long time, the rurouni found that he had forgotten one of the most common rules of city life: if you didn't keep track of your things, they were taken from you. Thrice that day he had been forced to corner thieving children who had made off with his rucksack and twice he had nearly been stripped of his wallet. The latter of the two was a feat, for reaching into someone's sleeve was a bit more trying than lunging for a rucksack hanging by someone's side.

The wanderer had, after these incidents, taken to the less-traveled streets of Kyoto. That, too, was a trying task. The center of the city was swarming, and almost every street was crowded with citizens, each of whom had been attracted by the Gion Festival. The rurouni had managed to find some moments of peace, but after glancing down at the hand-drawn map Shizumasa Eiko had constructed for him, worry replaced the serenity. How long had it been since the girl had been in Kyoto, anyway? If she'd been hunting for food, she had not been relying on the resources the city provided. The downside of taking the quiet roads were as follows: Eiko was even less sure about these roads, more people were willing to rob a short, scrawny wanderer, and the wanderer's intended location was in fact further away than he'd been before. Sighing and tucking the map away in his sleeve, the rurouni glanced around the sparsely populated streets. Selecting an old woman who'd been watering her flowers by the side of her house, he approached her.

"Excuse me, ma'am," he said, allowing a false smile to grace his lips when she looked up from her chore. "You wouldn't happen to know where the Aoi-ya is, would you?" The old woman wrinkled her nose – the rurouni hadn't been sure she could acquire any more wrinkles than she already had, but he wasn't about to be rude about it – and rubbed her sweaty brow with her free hand.

"The Aoi-ya, hmm? Let's see… ah, I remember. Big place. Run by the Shinomori family." The wanderer, who hadn't been sure of the owners' names, nodded reluctantly. The old woman took no notice and continued briskly, "What you have to do is take the Hanashii Lane – the one with all those pretty flowers on the sides – that'll take you to the center of town. Just keep looking; it's not all that hard to spot." She paused to water a few more flowers then added, "The woman running the place is a bit… eccentric. But I suppose that's how the family in its entirety is."

"Thank you," the wanderer said, bowing. Despite her vague directions, it was a start; he had fallen far from the center of town, and now he had a concrete means of getting back. He looked in the general direction the woman had pointed – the direction of the Hanashii Lane – and spotted the foretold flowers. Bowing a second time and turning, the wanderer made his way to the road. A small, secretive smile graced his features as he thought of the irony of the situation.

_"You must be cold-hearted, to send out pawns against me."_

_"You must be even more cold-hearted, Shinomori-san. You killed those men, even with the knowledge that they were pawns." _

There had likely been other encounters with Shinomori Aoshi, but the one that held the most impact on the wanderer was that one memory, the one where Aoshi had ruthlessly slain a group of pawns. Their crime had been partying on the graves of Aoshi's kin, Beshimi, Hyotoko, Han'nya, and Shikijou. The wanderer, who had been the right-hand man of the mastermind behind the pawns, had watched the slaughter. Then, much to his surprise, he had been sensed and brought out into the open. The two lines he remembered – the one about sending out pawns and killing them – had left the wanderer under the impression that Aoshi was a cold-hearted man. Could the former Okashira, as he himself had, changed? If so, what had been the major factors behind this? If the wanderer's guess was correct, then it had been Himura Kenshin who had started the change. Afterwards, it may have been Makimachi Misao, now known as Shinomori Misao, who had completed the process. Either way, seeing Aoshi would be entertaining.

_'I wonder,' _he thought, his smile widening, _'if I will receive a welcome, or a katana at my throat.' _

He never imagined receiving both.

xXx

"Aw, _shit,_" Shinta muttered under his breath, rubbing his back side, which still smarted from Chizuru's punishment. Upon hearing himself swear, the young Himura glanced around feverishly, worried that his mother may have heard. Kaoru had no qualms about her own foul mouth, or even Sano's – he was Shinta's main source of bad words, ranging from Japanese to other languages and beyond – but whenever she heard her youngest son swear, she cuffed him or smacked him across the head. Then, reminding himself that Kaoru was currently outside with Kenshin, he relaxed. Ai, who slept deeply in the futon on the other side of the room, was spared his foul language.

_'Who knew that girl was so strong? Her and Mom… And over such a stupid question, too,' _he thought, but upon remembering how strongly Chizuru had reacted to his snide remark about her relation to Kenji, he grinned through the pain. Staggering over to the window – the spanking had temporarily impaired his walking – he leaned over and watched as the city of Kyoto celebrated the Gion Festival. Despite being night, the city was bathed in lights of many different colors, shadowed only by the constant surge of people who passed by.

Shinta watched lazily as children ran by with bulging bags of water, containing prize fish that had been won in games. Old men and women tottered along, most of them accompanied by young, responsible family members. Every once in a while, Shinta caught sight of a policeman sifting through the crowds silently. Couples drifted by, hand-in-hand, oblivious to the celebration around them. The young Himura wanted to retch, some of the PDAs were so uncivilized. Why, just over to the right a young man stroked his woman's wrist suggestively; at the bridge in the distance, Shinta could see a couple of figures carrying a completely non-verbal conversation, their arms wrapped around each other firmly and their lips seemingly glued together; and just ahead, a girl squealed in delight and hugged her male companion as he handed her a simple flower.

'_Honestly,' _Shinta thought, disgusted. _'Some of these people should get a room. Love must make you sensibly constipated or something.' _Another grin flitted across his face as he thought of Kenji in such a state. Oh, how lucky Shinta was that Chizuru was there. If he could blackmail his older brother – if he ever even _saw _him – he would take any spanking the wrathful girl had to offer him. If only to see a fragment of Kenji's surprise, Shinta would—

The young Himura's thoughts stopped immediately upon seeing a familiar girl dash by, her head swinging from side to side as she searched for something. Shinta watched her intently, determined to pick out her identity; it took only a fraction of a moment for him to realize that it was Mana running through the crowd. He then glanced around her to see something explaining her haste. Was a thug after her? It was unlikely, considering the massive amount of bystanders. Where were Chizuru and Kenji? The mischievous part of Shinta wondered if they were finally getting some alone time, but the tiny fraction of seriousness within him insisted that something was up. Why would Mana be attending the Gion Festival unescorted? She didn't seem quite strong enough to defend herself, should the need to fight arise.

"What d'you think she's doing?"

The innocent question caught Shinta off-guard – that, accompanied by the fact that he had thought himself alone – and he jumped, giving a startled cry. As soon as his surprise started, however, it was forced to a stop; a strong hand covered his mouth and its partner went to his shoulder, squeezing it firmly. For a frightening moment, the young Himura fell silent, struggling. Then the voice came again,

"Shinta, it's just me. Rei."

Shinta relaxed slightly, glad that the unknown presence was not hostile, but he was angry with the young ninja nonetheless. What kind of moron snuck up on a guy in the middle of the night? Wasn't it considered inappropriate for girls to sneak into rooms belonging to the opposite gender? Surely Rei must have known this! Furious for having been snuck up on so easily, subdued to easily, and the fact that Rei was there altogether, Shinta grabbed the hand on his mouth and jerked it away, glaring at her. His gesture was unseen, however. Rei was staring out into the city, where Mana could still be seen ducking past people.

"I wonder what she's doing," she mused offhandedly. "No one is with her."

"Yeah," Shinta muttered, irked to actually agree with her but curious about Mana's actions nonetheless. He turned his attention back to the Raikoji sister. She had stopped, breathing heavily. She'd been running for a long time, but no one appeared to be chasing her. Was she late for a date? Shinta shot the idea down, quite sure that Mana was not the type to be seeing someone. She was far too innocent and shy to be involved with someone. Shinta was shaken from his thoughts as a handsome young man placed a hand on her shoulder, grinning at her as he offered her a drink. She smiled and politely rejected it, but the man was persistent, his free hand going to her shoulder and squeezing it before running down her arm. She pulled away, not quickly but enough to get her point across. They exchanged words; he grew slightly more forceful. Shinta felt the protective instincts he had inherited from both his mother and father rise up within him. "But she may get into trouble."

With that said, he and Rei climbed out the window – the room was conveniently placed on the first floor – and ran towards Mana, but their assistance proved unnecessary.

A short, slim blonde boy was suddenly standing between Raikoji Mana and the man who'd attempted to entice her with the drink. Mana shrunk away, her eyes wide and fearful; her would-be assaulter glowered at the boy in front of him and growled something, most likely a threat. The blonde boy merely smiled calmly, his mouth forming incoherent words. His peaceful attitude was rewarded with the young man's wrath. He rose up a hand to strike the blonde – Mana was about to lunge forward, but her protector's hand kept her away – and as he brought down his fist, it was stopped. Using his free hand, the blonde boy hand halted the young man's attack. His placid smile was intact as he spoke again, jerking the wrist he held away from him. The young man opened his mouth to speak, but another phrase from the boy silenced him; turning away with a hateful glare, he rejoined his companions. The blonde boy turned to Mana, smiled kindly; she returned the gesture with such adoration that Shinta was caught off-guard. This was a completely different Mana, a young woman free of her unspoken burdens and concerns. His thoughts about her inability to associate with the opposite sex vanished as he watched her reluctantly grab his hand. Rei, who had been completely silent beside him, hummed in awe.

"I think," she murmured, "Mana's been waiting for him. She looks like she's in love."

"I think," Shinta replied in the same hushed tone, "that she may be in danger of becoming sensibly constipated."

Rei blinked, staring at him for a moment before giggling and reaching a hand over to ruffle his hair fondly. The young Himura was once again caught off-guard by the strange ways of women. Why was Rei, tomboyish, ninja-master Rei, giggling like a girl? The oddities of Mana's sudden interaction with the young man, coupled with Rei's sudden girlish gestures, baffled him. Before he could question her, she crouched down and sped off in the direction Mana and the blonde boy had gone. Shinta followed without a second thought.

"What are you doing?" he half-snapped as he caught up with her. Mana and the boy were safely distanced from them, unable to hear his demands. He glanced up to watch them for a moment – well, their PDAs weren't as horrible as some of the others he'd seen, but they were PDAs all the same – before looking back down to the troublesome ninja. "Being nosy is generally a bad thing."

"Then why aren't you stopping me?" Rei asked slyly, raising an eyebrow. Feeling both irritation and confusion rise up in him, the young Himura sputtered before choosing wisely to fall silent. "C'mon, Shinta, you know you want to see what they're doing."

"I'm only worried about Mana-san," he hissed. "What if that creep tries something funny with her?" In reply to this, Rei rolled her icy blue eyes and blew the bangs out of her face.

"You honestly think he'll do something she won't allow?" When she saw his mortified expression, she sighed. "Shinta, you're _so _old-fashioned. I know Mana's got enough self-respect not to do any of _that _with him – well, not until she's married, at least - but it's pretty obvious that she's head-over-heels in love with this guy." Shinta blinked; the most he had seen was that adoring smile. Did that constitute love? And what was all this rubbish about _marriage?_ Rei continued, either oblivious to his confusion or ignoring it, "But if this were just a run-of-the-mill date, they wouldn't be so secretive. Oh, c'mon! They're heading for that ally."

Feeling mortified, concerned, and curious, Shinta reluctantly followed Rei's lead. As the two children silently trailed after the couple, Shinta watched for anything that might signal a secretive nature. After watching them for but a moment, he had to admit that the young ninja was right; their meeting each other rather than going together and the furtive glances they cast over their shoulders were only two clues. As Mana and the blonde boy vanished into the darkness of an ally, Shinta felt his gut twist unpleasantly. If Mana's relationship to this boy was not as platonic as it should have been, exactly how romantic was it?

Rei, who had gone ahead much more eagerly than her sidekick, cautiously poked her head around the corner. Shinta followed after resolving some of his inner turmoil; both children stared into the black abyss that was the ally. After a few moments of keeping their eyes trained on the void, their eyes adjusted, and Shinta could make out Mana's figure. She was just standing there, still and silent. It wasn't long before the unusual blonde hair became visible; the boy was standing next to her. Compared to Mana, he wasn't much of a boy at all, for he stood a few inches taller than her. Shinta, who was cursed with the Himura-Kamiya short genes, sympathized with the both of them. He then glanced over to Rei and mused on her height; her father was tall, but her mother was short. _'I hope she doesn't get taller than me,' _the boy thought woefully.

Shinta craned his head forward in an effort to get a better view, but Rei merely shook her head and fell back behind the corner, leaving the two to get some privacy. She grabbed Shinta's ponytail, covering his mouth with her free hand, and yanked him back brutally.

"Let's go," she said, and much to the boy's surprise, her voice carried a melancholy tone. Confused and a bit worried, Shinta followed her from the ally. As the two walked in silence, an uncomfortable atmosphere of gloom set over the two; feeling awkward about the scenario he had witnessed earlier, the boy rubbed the back of his neck.

"Who would've thought?" he asked suddenly, forcing a grin. "Mana has a guy!" Much to his disdain, Rei remained completely silent. Irked for having been ignored when he'd been trying to help, he frowned at her. "Are you alright?" Then, thinking of the healing needle-wounds in her neck, he ventured, "Are your wounds hurting?"

"No, it's not that," Rei murmured. Shinta watched attentively as her expression changed and she forced a smile on. He was about to question her further when she grabbed his wrist, surprising him. "Forget about it, okay? Now…" She pointed towards a nearby stall where a man was selling takeout. "Buy me something!"

"_Excuse_ me?" Shinta snapped, blushing furiously. Rei grinned slyly and he felt his stomach do a flip.

"We're out at the festival, so why not enjoy ourselves?" she cried as she pulled him towards the stand. Digging his heels into the ground, Shinta balked to the extent of his ability, but the ninja was remarkably strong. "I'm starving!"

"We're in our _pajamas!"_ Shinta argued. Rei stopped momentarily and looked at him, as if noticing his attire for the first time. Then she looked down at herself, and for a moment, the young Himura hoped she had realized the stupidity of it all. His hopes were dashed as she shrugged indifferently and continued dragging him. "Rei!"

In the end, he bought her all the food she'd wanted with his own savings. As the two sat at the bench next to the stall, each finishing off their extra meal, the old man selling the food smiled kindly at them.

"Well, aren't you two adorable!" he wheezed. Shinta went from pale to red in a matter of moments and Rei grinned. The old man offered her a second helping of noodles, which she gladly accepted. He went on, either oblivious to the boy's embarrassment or choosing to ignore it, "Reminds me of when I was young…"

Shinta's protests became incoherent as Rei focused on the refilled bowl of noodles, remembering the shock that had hit her upon seeing Mana's companion. When she'd been unable to detect the finer details earlier, she had merely been suspicious – blonde hair _was_ uncommon for an Asian, after all – but when she'd gotten a closer look, she'd been sure of the boy's identity. She could remember seeing him in a Chinese bar; her wounds ached as she remembered how foolishly she'd attacked him in hopes of prying information from him. He'd been involved with her case in China, and now, he was stationed in Japan.

'_Why is he with Mana, though?' _she thought as she fished a noodle from the bowl and swallowed it. Shinta was oblivious to her worries, arguing in a futile attempt to make it clear that he and Rei were just friends, no, not even friends. The old man merely laughed in return and the boy went redder, if that were possible. _'I don't know,' _she admitted, _'but I'm going to find out.'_

xXx

Tsutomu briskly made his way through the dense crowds, a bag full of eggs, chicken, and rice slung over his shoulder. When he'd excused himself from his lunch break with his father, he'd been questioned, and being that he'd been raised with said father using terribly strict methods, he'd told the truth. Saitoh Hajime had not been pleased. Tsutomu, on the other hand, was glad for this excuse and the possibilities behind it.

Early that morning, Midori had woken with a sudden craving. Tsutomu could clearly remember her rustling out from his hold around her and sitting up, her hands pressed on her suddenly-growling midsection.

"Mother and child," she said suddenly, and when Tsutomu had opened his mouth to question her words, she'd continued. "…Domburi. I really, _really _want mother and child domburi." When Tsutomu had merely stared at her, nonplussed, she'd glowered in return. "Get it for later, then." And much to her husband's confusion, she'd been grumpy with him for the remainder of the morning.

It was only after this unpleasant demand that Tsutomu, who'd been reading up on pregnancy for the sake of knowing, realized what could be happening. He hated being unaware of anything, and in his opinion, there were far too many husbands who didn't know what was going on with their wives to begin with. One symptom was bizarre cravings; despite it being alone in its support of his theory, Tsutomu had other leads to rely on. Had Midori been getting sick lately? Had she been complaining of sore body parts? Had she – and for this symptom Tsutomu had no means of knowing rather than asking, which seemed fairly rude – missed a cycle? These were all symptoms that could lead up to his hopes, but each of these could also be explanations for something else.

Despite his father's determination to squash his hopes – strange, for having grandchildren should have been one of his aspirations – Tsutomu could not help but feel light-hearted with the aspect of their first child. As he picked his way through the swarm of people, his mind drifted. Would the child be a boy or a girl? Every man wanted a son to carry on the family name, but frankly, he would have no complaints about a girl. What would the child look like? If it was a girl, he wanted her to take after Midori, he thought his wife so beautiful. His father had often made his adoration clear with scathing remarks, words that rebounded from Tsutomu with little or no impact. In his opinion, finding Midori beautiful was perfectly fine. As long as he did not flaunt this, he could think what he liked—

Tsutomu was jolted from his thoughts as he spotted a trio of young women at a stall, each ogling the objects on sale with a different degree of adoration. One was noticeably older than the other two, probably old enough to be their mother. Despite this, she was considerably pretty; her long, black hair was pulled back into a high ponytail and her vibrant blue eyes shone as she studied a random pendant. Another was young – probably in her mid-late teens – and sported long, brown hair and blue-grey eyes. The last girl was the one who'd caused him to stop and stare; she looked almost exactly like the other young one, save for a few differences in the eyes and such. This was the girl he had saved from Ikehara Kazu, the man who'd been sent to murder her… or, as she had called him, Yamanako Jiro.

Midori's possible pregnancy was forced to the back of his mind for the time being as the policeman shoved past people in an effort to reach the girl who'd withheld potentially helpful information from him, the girl who'd thought she could lie to an officer and leave unscathed. It was only when he grabbed her wrist roughly that she turned around with a glower; upon recognizing him, her hate faded away and she gasped lightly. The other two, neither of which had anticipated this, watched with wide eyes. The eldest woman stared for a moment before her eyes narrowed, her lips thinning.

"S-Saitoh-san," the girl in question croaked. She knew something was wrong, that his grabbing her wrist so harshly had been deliberate. She attempted to pull away, but he held fast and her eyes widened, her mouth forming incoherent words. The young woman behind her watched the scene with something akin to horror; the older one merely planted her hands on her hips, looking confident and well aware of the situation.

"You'd be Tsutomu, then," she said suddenly, and Tsutomu glanced at her. The older woman crossed her arms. "Kenshin told me about Saitoh's children; you look too much like your father not to be his." When Tsutomu made no audible reply – his hand merely tightened on the girl's wrist, earning a light gasp from her – the woman continued briskly, "I'd appreciate it if you let Chizuru-chan go."

"Unfortunately," he retorted, his tone cold, "you have no authority over the actions of an officer. If you'll excuse us," he nodded and pulled the girl along with an iron grip; she balked at first, but upon seeing that the situation was hopeless, she followed along limply.

"Do you have probable cause?" the woman very nearly snapped, and Tsutomu felt a threat beneath her words. Were the situation in any way unsteady, she would contact policemen of higher ranks and question them. Judging from her bold words earlier, the policeman knew this woman was not one to be easily deterred; barely suppressing a growl, he turned to her, eager to shoot down her aspirations.

"She provided false information to an officer," he recited, rattling off more reasons as quickly as they came. "She is a suspect to a crime I'm currently investigating. She was aided by an officer under questionable circumstances, and she was not brought to a station for questioning afterwards. That was my mistake," as he said this, the woman's eyes widened; if she had been so quick to think he was exactly like his father, she was wrong, "and I am about to rectify it. Also," he sneered and the woman's surprise went back to a glower, "a civilian shouldn't question an officer." With a curt nod, he turned, Chizuru following hesitantly.

Tsutomu noticed the woman's blue eyes going cold at his abrupt use of rank and he allowed himself the satisfaction of a sneer. The cries of the other girl rang out across the expanding gap he created between them, but he did not heed her.

As he dragged the girl through the crowd, people glanced in their direction but made no move to hamper his actions; his policeman uniform stood out, an invitation for those who wanted trouble. Chizuru was painfully silent, well aware that arguing with an officer was the quickest way of adding crimes to her name. Tsutomu kept his eyes trained forward as he led her towards the police station; he was not going to risk turning and seeing her pitiful state.

However, just as the two broke clear of the swarm of people, Chizuru surprised him by speaking. Her voice was clear, confident, free of any surprise or remorse.

"Sir, if you want my assistance, then I'll need to ask a favor of you." Tsutomu blinked and turned to address her. She was looking up at him, expecting an answer; her mouth was drawn into a tight line, her dark blue eyes hard and completely aware of her situation. Biting back a light gasp, Tsutomu turned and continued to lead her through the crowd.

"You're in no position to be making offers," he replied coldly, listening for some sort of protest. None came, and he forged on, hoping to draw some sort of disappointment from her. "If you'd been more truthful the first time we'd met, I wouldn't be taking you in now."

"I didn't know my attacker's name," she said simply. "But if you promise to help me, I'll give you all the information I know."

"You will, whether you like it or not."

"Yes, I probably will." For the first time, her voice flickered, but she seemed nowhere near cowed. He could imagine her eyes growing harder, colder, as she continued slowly, "But there is another who has just as much information as me. If you help me, I can get that information, too."

Tsutomu felt his grip on her wrist tighten against his will, but the girl made no protest. She waited silently for his reply, for his attempt to shoot down her words, but none came. The policeman weighed the proposition; because he had no probable cause when it came to a second informant, he could not simply order the girl to reveal his or her identity. He warred with himself for a moment then clenched his free hand in an unconscious gesture of defeat; barely suppressing a growl, he nodded curtly.

"We shall see," he snapped, glancing back at the girl in hopes of finding her surprised, reluctant, anything that would help him to gain the upper hand in their battle of words. Once again, the girl disappointed him; she was smiling grimly, her vibrant eyes shining with confidence.

"Thank you, sir," she said, and Tsutomu fought with the momentary urge to release her hand. Now that she had the aspiration of a bargain with an officer, she seemed nowhere near willing to run.

xXx

Kenji was fairly sure he'd torn up half of Kyoto in his search for the Raikoji sisters.

The young Himura suppressed a frustrated cry as he searched the main road, sprinting through the dense crowds, colliding with a passerby every once in a while and causing quite the uproar. _'Should've gotten to the inn sooner,' _he inwardly groused, resisting the urge to run to the nearest stall and slam his head against it. _'Should've made sure I knew where they were going, at least…' _As soon as he'd returned to the inn – it had been terribly early in the morning, and he'd been sure that the sisters would still be asleep – he'd regretted taking some time to himself for sightseeing. When he'd returned, the futons had been neatly folded, the room empty, the clerk at the counter unaware of their whereabouts.

Kenji's long hair whipped about as he glanced in different directions, hoping to catch site of Chizuru's dark, brown hair, her deep blue eyes. Much to his chagrin, however, he couldn't catch a glimpse of her _or _Mana. As the young Himura berated himself again for failing to keep a better eye on the two, he reluctantly admitted that he was growing worried, more so for the safety of the girls than his unstable position within the organization. Yousaku's hints had been worrisome enough; if Kenji continued to showcase his growing talents, he would be given an ultimatum: join permanently and gain a higher position (and eventually, the organization itself) or defect and be exterminated.

As Kenji weighed the options, vying for neither, he felt his gut twist uncomfortably. Before Kohaku formally made that offer, Kenji would need to think of something; he would have to relocate his entire family and all close to him, finish his Hiten training (which was progressing – slowly – but progressing all the same), and somehow find a way to get Chizuru, Mana, and himself out of the country.

But even as he thought of the lengths he would need to go to in order to ensure everybody's safety, Kenji felt his heart sink. It was all impossible. Where would his family go? What about Myogin Tsubame, whose pregnancy put her in no position to travel? What about his siblings, each of which were perfectly comfortable with the life they lived? Where would he get the money to relocate and provide for them all? And if he had any intentions to escape unscathed, he would need to take Chizuru and Mana far into China, possibly beyond that—

Kenji abruptly stopped himself, shock momentarily stalling his mind and causing him to go numb. Kenji forced himself to collect a shaky breath and clenched a fist, renewing his loyalties and banishing his foolish hopes of defecting.

When had the safety of those around him become more important than his own needs?

"Kenji!"

The young Himura was torn from his realization as his name met his ears, and, half-hoping that Chizuru had been the one to call out to him, he turned and faced the sound. Much to his surprise and discomfort, it was Kaoru who ran towards him; his mother stopped, inhaling lightly as she passed a hand across her forehead. She didn't seem as he had expected her to; instead of looking overjoyed, she seemed disappointed. Instead of looking as if she were about to plead for his immediate return, she seemed fearful, unwilling to ask him anything. Then Mana was suddenly behind her, and the absence of Chizuru was what forced him to speak with his mother.

"Where's Chizuru?" he asked gently, despite the worry gnawing on his insides, slowly but surely gaining territory as it festered. Mana, who was not conditioned to run for any distance considered relatively far, gasped as she attempted to force her tongue to create words. Kaoru was much more quick to speak – a lifetime of training in the Kamiya Dojo had left her with muscles that would not fail her easily – but she need not do so, for her frightened blue eyes spoke volumes.

"Chizuru-chan… has she ever done anything… wrong, Kenji?" she finally strung the words together hesitantly. Kenji blinked, confused and irritated with his mother's sudden reluctance.

"You didn't answer the question, Mom," he forced the last words past his teeth with a bit of difficulty. Mana, who was regaining her composure, narrowed her eyes in what could be the closest thing to a glare she'd ever mustered. Feeling drained, worried, and guilty, the young Himura allowed his eyes to meet the pavement at Kaoru's feet. "Sorry," he managed. Since when had his ego grown so hard to swallow, even for his mother? _'It's always been there,' _the separate mindset he'd grown to loathe quipped playfully. Forcing the thought away and focusing on Kaoru's question, Kenji did the safe thing; he shook his head innocently, a lie on his tongue before he needed to create it. "…No. Chizuru has never done anything wrong… what's going on, Mom?"

"He… a man," Kaoru began, then gathered a reassuring breath and visibly relaxed, regaining the last of her composure and pressing forward. "A man came and took her," when Kenji's eyes widened and his mouth went slightly slack, she continued hastily, "a _policeman_. He said something about Chizuru-chan withholding information from him and being a suspect, but I didn't get much more out of him…" She looked on her son, a thousand questions in her vibrant blue eyes but only one following her explanation, "Is there something you need to tell me, Kenji?"

This lie, Kenji told himself, would be for the good of his entire family. He smiled placidly, earning his mother's wide-eyed surprise in return, and said, "No. But I'll need to go pick up Chizuru; she's not so polite to strangers, you know?" A small, fake laugh escaped him. "Actually, she's not so polite to people she's known for a while. Mana-san? Let's go get your sister." Then he grabbed the girl's hand and led her off, much to her obvious dismay. Kaoru felt herself deflate as she watched her son vanish into the crowd once more, taking Mana with him.

Kaoru did not know her hands were shaking until she felt them go numb. Looking down sadly, she ordered herself to let go of her kimono; her hands rested at her sides shortly afterwards, her fingernails biting into her palms fiercely. Indignation, anger, and a bit of sorrow wrestled with each other until anger won over, giving her the sudden and once-buried urge to smack someone over the head with a bokken.

She was Kenji's mother; she'd raised him since birth, she'd been the first alongside Kenshin to observe his habits and mentally record them… since when did he think he could lie to her without being discovered? She could remember accusing him of snitching food, of sheltering stray animals; every time he'd lied, she'd pointed it out and had been rewarded with his dismayed acknowledgment of her motherly prowess. And now that he'd spent some time away, that suddenly gave him the ability to lie? Kaoru barely suppressed a growl as she turned abruptly and stomped back towards the Aoi-ya. Kenji was hiding something from her; of that she was certain.

"Damn!" she swore loudly, effectively turning the head of many a passerby. If she hadn't already sworn to keep her nose out of her son's affairs, she would have butted in with a demand for information. Gritting her teeth, she hurled a glare in the general direction of the pedestrians and continued to mutter under her breath, "Sometimes I'm just too damn _nice!"_

xXx

Chizuru felt out of place in one cell of many at the Kyoto police station. _"It's only temporary," _Tsutomu had told her, in an effort to be comforting no doubt. Nonetheless, the young Raikoji could not force herself to feel at ease; the cold, stone walls and floor, the tiny window allowing a spare ray of sunlight through, and the bars before her spoke of anything but comfort. She had cooperated without difficulty – after all, she was very likely highly suspicious in the officer's eyes – but as she sat quietly on the bed, plucking stray bits of lint from her lap, she found herself wishing she'd been a bit more assertive during her interrogation.

Chizuru hadn't given away anything – yet – because she was unsure of where Tsutomu's loyalties rested. The young policeman seemed to be a kind, trustworthy person, but after recalling what his father had been like she'd found herself holding back, fearful that he would cast her aside once she'd given him the information. If the police were going to help Chizuru, she wanted to help them in turn; she didn't want to sit by idly as the organization that had tormented her for so long was brought to pieces. A selfish, irrational part of her insisted that she be part of it. She was not seeking justice, she was not writing wrongs… she wanted revenge. The young woman sighed through her nose, realizing that confronting herself was much easier than dancing around her sins, falsely believing that what she was doing was for a purely selfless reason. Looking her sins in the face and supporting them seemed to lessen the guilt, if only marginally.

Despite having the cell closest to the door and despite it only being "temporary", Chizuru couldn't change the fact that many criminals were still in the same room with her. She wasn't about to judge them – she wasn't perfect, herself – but every once in a while the man in the cell across from her would throw her a leery stare. Chizuru did her best to ignore him, making a note to find something interesting on the floor or in her lap.

"Hey," he crowed, and when she wisely chose to ignore him, he repeated himself, "hey!" Chizuru closed her eyes so he would not see her roll them then plastered a smile to her face.

"Yes?" she inquired in what she hoped was a polite tone. The man sneered and Chizuru studied him for but a moment – he was broad, lean, and hauntingly familiar – before categorizing him as a creep. Suspicion niggled at her mind as she continued to study him almost shamelessly; it was when she remembered her aching ribs and the crushed body in the alley that she slammed herself back against the wall, her eyes wide with horror.

"Finally remembered me, bitch?" he hissed, his sneer gone in favor of pure loathing. Chizuru was silent, her mouth opening and closing like a trapped fish. Her former assaulter sauntered up to the bars of his cell, rattling them with the sturdy cuffs binding his wrists. "Are you proud of yourself for escaping me? Don't be," he hissed, and Chizuru knew he meant it as both a threat and a warning. "As soon as you're out of this hellhole, Akiro will have another coming after you."

Chizuru could only nod mutely, forcing herself to calm down. Then she forced a second smile, but this one was confident, patronizing.

"You should think about your own situation," she said coldly. "I don't think he's too impressed with _your _performance. And if Akiro doesn't try to kill you," the man was audibly growling, but she pressed on, "then Kohaku will."

"You—," he began furiously, but he fell silent as the door to freedom creaked open, Tsutomu appearing from behind it with a set of keys in hand. The policeman spared Chizuru's assaulter a glance before turning to her cell, rattling the keys about and sliding the door open. He wordlessly led her from the hall, and just as she was about to open the door and regain her freedom, she felt something wet strike her cheek. Chizuru paused, a hand going up to the spit and wiping it away before she cast her assaulter a last look.

"I wouldn't touch you to hit you," she said coolly, then turned and closed the door behind her. The man's profanities were muted by the stone walls and, feeling effectively refreshed, Chizuru allowed herself the liberty of a sigh. She looked up to Tsutomu, who had remained silent. "So? Are you considering my offer?"

"Possibly," he murmured. "What you need to realize, Raikoji-san," he'd taken the liberty of asking her name first, "is that with adults, everything goes a bit slowly. My superiors will think your offer over, then we'll send a message to the Aoi-ya. Do you visit frequently?"

"More or less," Chizuru conceded, shrugging. Then, glancing up towards the sun and realizing that noon was already approaching, she bowed politely and turned, vanishing into a nearby alley without waiting for permission to leave. Tsutomu made no move to stop her. _'First,' _she told herself, _'get back to the Yun-ya. If Mana-ne and Kenji are looking for me, they may come by the police station, but the inn is our permanent location…' _As the young woman rattled off reasons as to why the inn would be the best place to wait – she was a bit unsettled with waiting at the police station, where the only thing separating her from countless criminals was a thick wall and bars – she glanced towards the rooftops, mentally noting her location and wondering how long it would take her to get to the Yun-ya. She would make a point to lose any possible followers (including policemen), for as far as she was concerned, she had no new allies as of yet.

As all around Chizuru went eerily silent, the young woman concentrated on ignoring her assaulter's words; no one would chance attacking her so soon after she'd contacted the authorities. But despite her reassurances, she could not help but turn in the direction of every stray noise, could not help glancing over her shoulder every once in a while.

'_How many times have I been attacked since I came to Kyoto?' _she thought, somewhat irritated with the unspoken results. _'There was that brute who caught me back in Tokyo, but that doesn't count… There was that pig-man, and he's dead… Then there was that jerk in the dungeon.' _Chizuru sighed; creativity was obviously not one of her enemies' strong points. They followed very basic instructions: if you worked for Akiro, you killed her. If you worked for Kohaku, you kidnapped her. Either option involved a good deal of beating up said girl. Chizuru's hand involuntarily touched her ribs, were bruises still lingered from the last attack. If Kenji saw them, what would he think?

Chizuru was torn from her thoughts as a low, piteous cry sounded from a darkened corner in the alley. Hesitant, but curious nonetheless, she drew near and found herself in front of the pitiful figure of a child, hunched over and scrubbing his eyes raw. Apparently he took no notice of her; gently, unwilling to frighten the child, she set a hand on his shoulder. The boy gave a sudden jerk, but aside from remaining tense, he continued as if nothing had happened. Feeling maternal instincts take over, Chizuru went to her knees, allowing her free hand to comb through his grubby hair. She fleetingly thought she could feel insects fleeing from the presence of her hand, but, unwilling to be cowed, she continued as if nothing bothered her.

"Is something wrong?" she murmured in what she hoped was a comforting tone. The boy flinched as if he expected a blow. Plucking up her courage and shifting slightly on her knees – which were already going numb from their spot on the ground – she pressed on. "Are you lost?"

The reply was a jerky nod. Feeling sympathy for the child, she grasped his hand, willing him to his feet. His legs wobbled like those of a newborn foal's, stiff, unsure. Allowing herself a secret smile, Chizuru took a step forward, willing him to do likewise. He stepped in time with her, gaining strength with each movement.

"Now," she said as they moved forward, "I need you to tell me where your mother is. She must be worried sick over you." Something about the boy's condition told her that his having any parents was unlikely, but she needed to try. "Do you live in Kyoto? Or are you in an inn?"

"M-Mom?" he questioned, his eyes wide. The way he said the word suggested he'd rarely used it; much to Chizuru's dismay, he continued. "Don't have one."

"Who are you with, then?" she ventured, sorry to have brought up a sad topic but determined to help.

"I-I'm with my friends," he croaked. The image of a tiny band of children, each in the same state as this boy, conjured itself up in Chizuru's mind. As the two wondered through the maze of alleys, the boy clung to her arm like a bur, and the young woman couldn't help but feel a bit endeared to him. The boy paused suddenly, his head whipping in the direction of a tiny road branching off from the main way. Then he pointed hurriedly. "I think they're this way!"

Confused with his sudden confidence but nonetheless glad that she'd managed to help him, Chizuru followed him. The sides of the buildings closed in around her, providing little to no space; the boy ran ahead, melting into the shadows before reappearing every so often to beckon her forward. She gasped out a plea for him to wait, but he was nowhere near inclined to do so. He seemed to think her sudden claustrophobia was a joke, a game, and he continued to vanish before reappearing moments later. Chizuru felt her heart ramming against her chest like a caged bird and she took gulps of air, ordering herself to be calm. Something was wrong, she needed to leave—

Before she could hastily bid the boy farewell, he vanished again; instead of finding the boy, Chizuru found herself facing a grown man, a knife held in one hand. She bit back a cry and turned to leave, but the walls had grown so close that they hindered her movement. The man's free hand shot out and grabbed her throat, vice-like, painfully cutting off her supply of air. Chizuru gave a strangled croak as she searched for the boy, finally spotting him behind the man. A wicked sneer was painted on the boy's face, his mask of innocent fear discarded. Chizuru felt her lungs scream for air as she was lifted effortlessly from her feet; she kicked in a futile effort to free herself, but her strength was quickly fading along with her consciousness. She glared at her attacker in a last-ditch effort to be brave, but what she saw horrified her; Akiro himself stood before her, sneering maliciously.

"I see you remember me," he jeered coldly. Chizuru felt her stomach tie itself up in knots as the grip on her throat tightened. She was fairly sure that he would break her neck, given he added any more pressure. Miraculously, his grip slackened and she drew in a rasping breath. "You've always been more trouble than you're worth, _Chi-chan_."

His blatant use of a nickname disgusted her, and she showed it through another glare; he sneered again and slapped her harshly, sending her head snapping to one side. Biting back a pained cry, the young woman dug her fingernails into the space between her neck and his hand, forcing a small gap and gathering more air before bringing her foot up to kick him again. Akiro used his free hand to block the kick, his knife sending pain up her leg; gritting her teeth and using the time she'd gained, Chizuru lifted his hand to her mouth and sunk her teeth in, drawing blood. The man gave an agonized cry as he released her. Chizuru turned on her heel and fled.

Her vision blurred dangerously, darkening and fading as she stumbled through the tiny alley. Her foot slipped and she leaned against the wall, perilously taking time to regain her complete consciousness. Her moment of rest cost her dearly; Akiro had easily caught up to her. Burying his hand into her scalp, he twisted her head painfully, the edge of his knife coming up to rest under her chin. Chizuru fell utterly still, realizing that even a gulp of air could cost her dearly. Akiro's sneer stretched to a malicious grin.

"Don't look so miserable," he hissed. "Your sister will join you very, very soon." For a terrifying moment, Chizuru was sure that he'd slit her throat. But much to her surprise, the knife was sheathed and a wet cloth was in its place. Before she could raise a hand to fight him, Akiro had pressed the cloth to her nose and mouth; all instincts told Chizuru to hold her breath, to wait for the cloth to be removed, but necessity stepped in and she chanced a gulp of air. The effects of the drug in the cloth were immediate; the young woman felt her muscles stiffen instantly. Her brain fogged over, her eyesight abandoned her, and she fell forward slackly. The only thing she could register was the feeling of her captor's arms around her as he broke her fall. Her lips moved sluggishly in a final effort to rebel.

"S-screw you," she croaked as her vision dissolved and she fell limp. Akiro brushed a hand through her hair lazily as he shouldered her.

"Gladly," he replied smoothly. "But I'm afraid now isn't the time." And with the deceiving child in tow, he made his way back into the depths of the small alley.

_To be continued…_

_A/N: I'm not really pleased with this part, but then again, I'm rarely pleased with this story. ; At least I managed to get some ground covered; you-know-who is home, Chizuru struck a bargain with the police, she gets kidnapped… yada, yada, yada. Sometimes I wonder how I manage to stretch all this crap over fifteen pages… oh, yeah. I drabble a lot. –sigh- _

_I'm taking a tiny break from this series so I can get back into the school mood. I hate school… But I DO intend to finish this story. Not exactly soon, but I intend to finish it._

_Also, this chapter is called "Bloodhound and Wolf" in reference to Tsutomu and Akiro, who are both developing as characters in this series. Tsutomu is willing to protect those around him and holds a position as a police officer, thus making him the bloodhound. Akiro is the metaphorical wolf because he's out to get Chizuru and Mana. It's stupid, I know, but finding names for these chapters can be so HARD... D: Mental note to self: in your next story, don't use contradicting titles. _


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